Pieces of the Picture
by kopycat101
Summary: Dangan Ronpa drabbles/oneshots over people's relationships to one another. Maybe, just maybe, these bits and pieces of interactions and blooming bonds can create Pieces of the Picture. And with these, it's possible that we can experience Hope's Peak Academy as they have. (multiships/ rare pairs) (possible dr/sdr2/dr0/free time event spoilers) [[ABANDONED due to tech difficulties]]
1. Hair and Friendliness

Summary: Dangan drabbles/oneshots over people's relationships to one another. Maybe, just maybe, these bits and pieces of interactions and blooming bonds can create Pieces of the Picture. And with these, it's possible that we can experience Hope's Peak Academy as they have. (multiships/ rare pairs) (dr/sdr2/dr0/free time event spoilers)

* * *

AN: So, I wanted to start a drabble/oneshot series that depicts various pairings. Because I'm curious as to why people get angry whenever others don't ship popular ships, when there's just so many characters and possible pairings to work with.

Also, I just **really** love shipping stuff.

I'll try to go as long as possible with updating this story weekly. Also, I mix a few of the English release spelling/titles with the original Japanese or Oren's LP version.

_Most of these oneshots/drabbles are during their school days/ before the days of Mutual Killing._

* * *

Touko Fukawa x Sayaka Maizono

(Fuyaka, Sayawa, Fukasaya, Fukazono)

Hair and Friendliness

* * *

It was P.E. class, and the weather was thankfully mild.

It was Monday, and many really weren't up for doing much after the dreadful weekend that made everything seemed swamped in rainwater. Of course, the extremely athletic and enthusiastic students of the class were up for running around the track. But they were clearly the minority on this day.

Many were detached and unwilling to do much of any physical activity, going off on their own or in small groups.

_Touko Fukawa_, of course, was staying in the corner and away from everyone as possible. Firstly, she was an _Ultimate Writer_, so she had no reason to partake in anything physical. There was also the primary fact that she **despised** interacting with others, because who would honestly want to interact with someone as disgusting and negative as **her**? But she also had another reason.

She was trying to do her best to hide the scars that riddled her legs. They weren't really scars—they were tally marks, made by her alternate personality, the infamous _Genocider Syo_. She **hated** seeing them, and she knew people would hate them ten thousand times worse than her. After all, they were the kill count of Japan's most well known serial killer.

Fukawa had done well so far, by mostly hanging back and trying to interact as little as possible with her classmates during P.E. This class was one of the very few in which her legs were completely bare. At least with the school uniform, the skirt would help cover the marks, and she could always wear high-socks or tights if they didn't

Of course, it seemed that today was not her day. Any day was not her day, but this one seemed particularly unlucky, despite the improvement in weather.

For reasons unknown to her—other than the obvious spiteful ones floating in her mind—_Sayaka Maizono_ was walking towards her. Sayaka Maizono, the _Ultimate Pop Star, _who was one of the most popular and well-liked girls in her class.

"How are you doing today, Fukawa-san?" Maizono asked pleasantly, with her usual practiced smile in place, one that melted hearts across the nation.

"W-Why would **you** want to know?" Fukawa asked spitefully, nervously chewing on her thumb. "You're just asking me that because it's expected from someone as **perfect** as you, isn't that right?"

"Oh, no! Not at all, Fukawa-san!" Maizono said quickly. Although she seemed a bit surprised and put-off, that didn't seem to deter the blue-hair girl, much less make her less cheerful.

"It's just that, well, it was raining an awful lot this past weekend. I just wanted to know if my classmates were all right or not! After all, colds aren't very pleasant!" she chirped with an eye-smile.

Fukawa's frowned deepened, as did the steeple of her fingers.

"Nn...I-I'm fine. Although, I'm just a part of the class, aren't I? It's not like my own health really matters in the end, does it?" Fukawa said snidely, with a somewhat pained expression on her face. "I-I'm just a part of the s-stupid class."

The Pop Star blinked, her eyes wide. "That's not true, Fukawa-san! I really think that you and your health matters!" Maizono insisted, with a concerned look that didn't seem faked.

Fukawa simply grumbled some very unkind things under her breath, and wrung her hands.

"Oh, and it's such nice weather out today! I think spending this time with a friend would be better than being in the corner, don't you think?" Maizono asked kindly.

Fukawa was about to interject with a scathing comment about Maizono's **friends**. That dumb bland boy, Naegi, was one of her friends. That big-busted, blimp headed girl, Asahina, was one of her friends. That frivolous and annoyingly loud materialistic model, Enoshima, was one of her friends.

And Fukawa, in no way, fit into a group that was considered as Sayaka Maizono's "friends". Who would want to be friends with someone as unpleasant as **her**, in the first place? Besides, Touko Fukawa did **not** need friends.

However, as if feeling the rising scathing comment that would be uttered from Fukawa's mouth, Maizono quickly blabbered on.

"And besides, the sun makes your hair look so pretty, so it'd be a crime if I didn't come over and compliment it!" Maizono chirped with usual her cute Star smile.

Fukawa merely gaped at the blue-haired girl. She made some odd squeaking sounds, and wrung her hands. After a bit of floundering about, she managed to utter a timid "E-Eh?".

"I mean, I always loved your braids…But, the sun makes them look so glossy and nice today! And not a hair's out of place in your braids either—it's like you're having a perfect hair day!" Maizono chirped kindly.

"Y-You're lying…I'm not…" Fukawa mumbled in vain, then made a very infuriated sound as she tried to find words to explain how utterly **wrong** Sayaka Maizono was.

First off, how in the **hell** did she get that she was having a 'perfect hair day'? Her bangs were still an utter, sloppy mess, strands poking and jabbing out every which-way. And secondly, this was all too sugar-coated to be true!

"It's true! Fukawa-san, you have such pretty hair!" Maizono exclaimed enthusiastically. At this, Fukawa turned a very odd shade of red, and stuttered incoherently, curling into herself.

She shouldn't be falling for the Pop Star's tricks, she just **shouldn't**! After all, everything Sayaka Maizono did was practiced. Everything was practiced and faked, until it molded together and seemed genuine. She knew that much. She'd heard enough and seen enough to know this.

But something seemed utterly **real** about what Maizono said. The girl herself never seemed to be one that would be cruel. She always seemed happy and truthful, even in an infuriating manner.

"Maybe…Some day, could I brush it out for you?" Maizono asked bashfully, for once not seeming like the perfect, spick-and-span idol that she always portrayed. At that moment, Sayaka Maizono seemed like a truly kind, normal girl.

A girl that was extending her friendliness over to someone like Touko Fukawa.

Fukawa ducked her head quickly, looking up through her bangs at the girl who was technically only one centimeter taller than her, but who seemed to be stories high.

Could she…really mean it?

"A-Ah, sorry! I must have went beyond the boundary!" Maizono apologized quickly, after the very long and awkward pause in which Touko seemed ready to morph into the dirt or completely explode at any second.

Maizono was all but ready to do her perfect, practiced Pop Star bow and bolt for it, when she heard something peculiar.

"Some day…that'd be nice."

"Eh?" Maizono asked, surprised at having heard Fukawa say anything that wasn't even remotely derogatory.

"W-What?! Were you eavesdropping? I was talking to myself!" Fukawa spit scathingly, then looked down at her fidgeting hands, her face pink.

"Some day…" she mumbled, loud enough for Maizono to definitely catch that time. Then, the girl adjusted her large glasses, and quickly skittered off to another vacant area in the open-field P.E. class.

She didn't miss the beaming smile of the young singing sensation; and the singer didn't miss the embarrassed grumbling of the authoress.

Yes…Some day, doing something as fun and close as brushing each other's hair… Would be something they'd both look forward too. Even if it took them a while to get to that point.


	2. By the Alley

**AN**: I wanted to get this rolling, so two chapters continuously to start off this collection of one-shots.

You'll note that I ship a lot of things. 175 of the possible 250+ pairings you could possibly make in the Dangan Ronpa games, actually. I get creative. And I can ship both popular and rarepairs easily.

And of course, Mukuro is just a walking spoilers, so DR spoilers in this chapter, because of that.

* * *

Mondo Owada x Mukuro Ikusaba

(Mukumondo, Ikuwada, Mondosaba)

By the Alley

(_pre-Hope's Peak_)

* * *

Another trip 'round the streets of the city with his gang. Maybe some minor vandalisms of a private property or a rich place full of stuck-up officials or something.

But always, **always**, they'll ride on their motorcycles and have a great time, showing how tough and free they were.

_Mondo Owada_ loved the wind through his pompadour-styled hair, the adrenaline, the purr of his bike... He'd been in this gang—**his** gang, the _Crazy Diamonds_—for years, but spent even longer on a bike.

It made sense. He was the _Ultimate Biker_. Got an invite to the famous Hope's Peak Academy for being a bike gang leader and everything. He obviously liked what he was doing, and was good at it.

But during this particular ride, he didn't think anything significant would happen. His gang did runs around the city constantly, as routine, with nothing more than the elation of riding their bikes and the loud noises that accompanied them.

That is, nothing significant happened until his group stopped to take a break in the entrance of an alley, cracking open drinks from a nearby convenience store.

Because at that time where they were lounging around and talking loudly to each other, a **girl** decided to exit the alley.

A really **pretty** girl.

A really pretty girl who had the body of a model, minus the stereotypical big boobs and shining smile.

Her face was serious and dangerous— blue eyes so cold and sharp that they looked gray instead of blue. Her hair was black and short, in something he could only describe as a bob cut that got shorter heading towards the back, bangs swept to the side of her head. She was wearing some military-style khakis and a tight t-shirt with some French-looking words on it, accompanied by a strange emblem and a wolf.

She barely blinked when she passed them, strolling with a quiet, deadly authority that made his stomach twist oddly. His face heated up slightly.

He'd never seen someone so comfortable walking through the dirty, loud streets of the city before. Someone who seemed to not be phased whatsoever by danger, or the darkness that hid between buildings.

Hell, not even any of the female members of his delinquent gang even held a candle to this girl. She had an aura about her that was way more intimidating than what **they** could muster.

And then the catcalls started.

While Mondo was in a stupor over the girl, his gang members decided to be funny and start catcalling her.

They called her hot, invited her over, made innuendos, and had the largest asshole bravado turned on full stop. They were loud. They were obnoxious. And with the pure number of them there, they would make most women be terrified and make a run for it.

At that time, Mondo snapped out of it, and barked at them to stop harassing the girl, who had only blinked and stared at them with her blank face.

"Oi! Doin' that shit too much is harassment—haven't I fuckin' told you that?! We had our fun with the first few comments, but you're just being fuckin' embarrassing, horny assholes!" he roared at them, his face obviously showing how pissed he was.

He had a man's code of honor that he held highly. It included never breaking a promise, never giving up, always being a man, and most importantly—no picking on the weak. And since Mondo Owada was a stereotypical tough-guy who held the usual view that women were weaker than men, well, women were just automatically considered weak to him.

So whenever his gang got up to that harassment bullshit, he'd only put up with first few seconds of it to let them get it out of their system before telling them to shut the fuck up and leave the females they picked on **alone**.

All the girl did was stare blankly at him during his tirade, slowly raising an eyebrow.

"Aw, c'mon boss! She's hot and looks pretty strong—Why don't ya ask her to join ya for a bit?" one of his more thickheaded lackeys snickered. This simply caused the gang leader to have his blush permanently on his face—not from anger like before, but from embarrassment.

More guys chimed in and encouraged him to go for it. Suddenly, the situation seemed more like a flustered older brother getting heartfelt encouragement from his younger brothers to go ask a girl out, than a bike gang leader with his gang.

"S-Shut up!" He yelped at them, as some elbowed him in the sides or tried pushing him forwards whilst laughing.

"You're Mondo Owada," a soft, deadpan voice stated, cutting through the obnoxious chatter from the group of gangster wannabees.

"Er, yeah," Mondo blurted awkwardly, taken aback that she finally spoke up after all that time.

She stared him down, and he said more boastfully, with fake bravado, "Yeah, I am. Got a problem?"

His gang hooted, smiling as they slapped his back, whilst still trying to look like an intimidating gang. Despite the fact that they looked ridiculous in their pompadours and soda cans in hand.

"No," she stated bluntly. She stared at him longer with her intense gaze, causing him to twitch and feel like he was an enemy spy that was in some type of interrogation for information.

After a bit, she seemed satisfied at his level of twitchiness and awkwardness, as she nodded at him. "See you at Hope's Peak," she said curtly, before turning on her boot-clad heel perfectly and striding away from The Crazy Diamonds.

The group stared at each other in confusion, before bursting in a loud buzz.

"Boss, that hot chick's goin' with you to Hope's Peak! Holy shit!"

"Whaddaya think her title is?"

"Yo, boss—you finally got a clear shot at gettin' a girl!"

"Yeah, you can totally do it!"

His gang talked enthusiastically, some slapping his back to show their belief in him. All Mondo could do was stare at the spot that the girl had been, frozen.

She was deadly, and serious. And he'd managed to make a shit impression before even reaching the school.

It was one thing to have assumptions and impressions from someone's supposed actions, but another thing **entirely** to actually experience them with your own eyes, after all.

"S-Shut it!" he snapped at them, mortified and trying to hide it. "Time to head back! We've stood here long enough!" he said in a loud, stern voice, turning to get back to his bike leaning up against the building.

Mondo didn't even know the girl's name.

Her name was _Mukuro Ikusaba_. She was the _Ultimate Soldier_. And when he first met her inside the school, he was awkward and gruff as hell with coming face-to-face with her again.

The stupid encouraging comments from his gang just didn't want to leave whenever he looked at her, either.

…He never wanted to hang out down by an alley again. Even though it was worth it.


	3. So Pretty

**AN**: I'm not exactly sure if I have a day in mind for these weekly updates. I'll figure that out as I go along.

This was a cross between a drabble and a oneshot since I love soudamiki so much WOOPS. Forgive my soft shipping heart... Well, at least welcome to the mind of a somewhat obsessed Souda or something idk just take it

_Spoilers for Tsumiki's and Souda's Free Time Events, if you never read/heard of them._ Some vague Chapter 2 stuff thrown in there too.

* * *

Kazuichi Souda x Mikan Tsumiki

(Soumiki, Soudamiki, Mikuichi, Dr Pepper)

So Pretty

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

She was so pretty, but she was a nervous, apologetic wreck.

He didn't understand why no one talked about how pretty she was, either. Sure, she had choppy, uneven hair. And she had legs that were un-proportional and thicker than average. And she always seemed to try to hide and sink to the floor, her posture crooked and a mess.

But she was still so pretty.

_Mikan Tsumiki_ really was a diamond in the rough. And it seemed only _Kazuichi Souda_ knew this, having come from less-than-desirable circumstances in his childhood himself.

He could see under the trembling mess of a girl, to see that she was pretty damn gorgeous. A heart-shaped face, a nice figure, beautifully lush hair…

She just had an overall kindness and softness that made her glow, especially when she smiled.

And he imagined that her figure was the reason _Hiyoko Saionji_ picked on her so damn much.

Saionji was always spiteful, rude, and a brat; she seemed to pick on **everyone**. Hell, he'd been picked on frequently by her too, because he was (not-so-)secretly a complete wreck and total loser. But she did so the most to Tsumiki, because the poor _Ultimate Nurse_ was already so abused and hysterical that she was an easy target.

And God, could he empathize with her. He tried to make friends, to have a better personality that would garner him little to no antagonism, and yet he still had people picking on him. Saionji, that little Yakuza Princess—surname Kuzuryuu, that's all he knew of her— and her older brother, plus Koizumi's scathing comments whenever he fucked up and she pointed out that he needed to be more responsible and be a man about things.

It was obvious that Tsumiki also tried really hard to have friends, too. Although, her concept of friendship was probably more fucked up and twisted than **his**.

But even when she burst into tears and apologized profusely— her eyes and nose red, her face twisted in a painful expression—she still looked great to him.

Especially whenever she tripped spectacularly and flashed her panties, but that's more hormones talking than anything, really. (_It's healthy to be hormonal when you're at the peak at your hormone shifting stage, _he'd imagine she'd say, as she was a Nurse and would know about a lot of medical things.)

Maybe if…

If only he were braver…If only he were more confident, then he could help her, somehow.

Because he knew how bad it is, getting bullied relentlessly. Getting abused. Getting treated like vermin.

And he hates himself for not comforting her.

…If only he could help her.

...

(She's still so pretty.)


	4. Invitation, Unlucky Shoe, and Hope

**AN**: I have a feeling that Tuesday could be the day I upload things, but I'm still debating if I should upload these randomly through the week or not.

Anyways, I entered a contest for my school's Writing Club. I submitted one of my fics, Of Trenched Wars -which had originally been a school assignment that I tailored to be a Hetalia fic. I re-tailored it to omit Hetalia, and turned it in, because I forgot about the deadline and that was the only decent non-fic thing I really had. I learned Thursday that I placed 2nd in Fiction, and I'm getting $30 as a prize. Hella.

Really vague SDR2/DR0 spoilers stuff when it comes to Hinata at the end of the chapter. Also, the story about Naegi getting admitted into Hope's Peak is canon, from extra promotional material.

* * *

Makoto Naegi x Hajime Hinata

(Hinaegi, Naeginata, ahoge bros, ahogecest)

Invitation, Unlucky Shoe, and Hope

(_pre-Hope's Peak_)

* * *

He felt like he was floating on air.

Somehow, despite all the bad luck he's had, he managed to get invited into _Hope's Peak Academy_.

**Him**. _Makoto Naegi_. Average in every way possible. Managed to get into **Hope's Peak**.

Sure, the circumstances that led up to getting his letter were terrible…

It had started from simply changing his route to go home, to getting used by his friends to get drinks, to injuring someone accidentally. Then it was him getting on a bus, somehow uncovering a jewel thief, being held hostage, witnessing an old man squaring off and beating the thief. The thief escaped, stealing a mailman's moped, and Naegi caused him to crash.

And, he had to stay hours in the police station afterwards for questioning on the incident. Whilst his family worried over him.

So he had terribly bad luck. And yet, it seemed like life had been trying to give him some bad luck for the overwhelming **good** luck at getting into Hope's Peak. By the rare chance of the lottery the private academy held, and getting a spot into the elite school out of every single student that was in the lottery. Getting the chance out of every high schooler in **Japan**.

He was so euphoric, he just decided to head out to one of the big multi-stores in his city, on a whim.

His euphoria seemed to shield him from any possible bad luck he could've encountered on his trip. Nothing happened of note. Not even a single piece of new merchandise for his favorite anime or a new album from his favorite singer was anywhere to tempt him into spending large amounts of his allowance. Not one rude person that Naegi was forced to stand near. And Naegi liked that.

He liked not having back luck.

He left the store, and that's when the euphoria faded just a bit.

He slammed into someone. Someone with a wide chest, who was definitely taller than him—although many people seemed to be taller than him.

Naegi fell, sprawled on the concrete. His stupid unlucky shoe—the same one that always seemed to fly off all the damn time—flew off his foot.

He peeked up, hoping he didn't piss off someone older and stronger than him.

In front of him was a tall boy with sharp golden eyes. He had dark brown spikey hair, an ahoge sticking up stubbornly. He had a broad chest, but his other features were average.

Actually, he seemed like an average high schooler as well, if not for the odd chest and height proportion. The guy looked like his senior.

Except he was clutching his jaw, looking kind of pissed. He glared down at the shorter boy, but still stuck out his hand down for him to grab.

Naegi apologized profusely as the older boy hauled him up. The boy bent down to grab Naegi's shoe—which he had said, whilst rubbing a spot on his jaw, whacked him in the face.

"Look, I won't blame you for running into me or anything. I mean, **you** were the one that ended up on the ground," the boy told Naegi logically. "However…I suggest you tie your shoe tighter next time," he added, brow furrowing, and Naegi felt like the boy's eyes were going to skewer him alive.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry—Here, I'll buy you an icepack," Naegi said nervously, as he darted back into the entrance of the towering store, heading to a section he knew sold icepacks. He turned his head back to see the older boy following him, and Naegi had to remind himself that the boy wouldn't beat him up. Maybe. Hopefully.

He just wanted something for his jaw, right?

**Please** let him be right, for once.

"I know it's not an excuse, but I was just so happy!" Naegi blurted out, causing the other boy to falter and screw his face up in confusion.

"I-I mean, I managed to get into a **great** school, and I didn't even expect it!" Naegi babbled. "And, I mean, it just came out of left field when I got a letter that said I was accepted. Only the best of the best go there, so I didn't think I'd manage to get a spot and—"

"Wait, hold on…First, you're babbling—" Naegi laughed nervously at the other boy's comment "—Secondly, which school?"

Naegi was surprised that the other boy was taking an interest. After all, one would think someone would be curt and not be curious whatsoever over the life story of someone who all but decked you in the face with their (unlucky, ungrateful, capricious) shoe.

"Oh! Um…Ah, it's kind of embarrassing, but…" Naegi fidgeted, fighting a smile. He failed, and gave a bright smile up at the taller boy. "I-I managed to get into Hope's Peak Academy!"

The boy's eyes widened. "No way," he blurted, disbelievingly.

"That's what **I** said when I got the letter!" Naegi said excitedly, having garnered the interest of the boy. "I mean, I didn't think my test scores or anything could be good enough for Hope's Peak—and I'm certainly not rich or anything. But…But I got in!"

"Holy shit," the boy breathed down at the tiny boy, eyes wide. Something seemed to click in his head, and his attitude seemed to shift.

"Then you'll be my _kohai_ at Hope's Peak Academy!" the taller boy said in realization. Naegi blinked, looking up at him, before his face split in a large smile.

"Oh, no **way**! You go to Hope's Peak?!" Naegi exclaimed, eyes wide and filled with stars.

"Yeah. It's great," the upperclassman grinned. He seemed to glow, as he rambled about the school. "It's such an honor to just be on the campus, much less go to school there. And being surrounded with so much talent and energy—It's something that seems too impossible for average people, but with hard work, you can certainly get in to experience it for yourself."

Naegi listened with rapt attention, nodding occasionally, his ahoge bobbing frequently with the older boy's. It's almost as if their peculiar strands of hair were doing an odd dance.

The older boy seemed to trail off, before they both looked over at where they were. They were in front of a small store that sold the icepacks that Naegi had wanted to find. Naegi quickly ducked in to buy one for the boy that was his **upperclassman**.

Again, the whole good and bad luck balance he had going on in his life was weird, and worked in the strangest ways.

He manages to get knocked down, his shoe flings up to smash into an older guy's face, and then suddenly they learn that they're both attending Hope's Peak and he's his senior.

What a great first meeting, huh?

Naegi handed the icepack over to the taller boy.

"Ah, sorry for rambling," the darker-haired boy said, as he gratefully took the icepack and put it on his jaw. "It's just…I've always looked up and worshiped Hope's Peak Academy. It's just such a great, hopeful school for the best, you know? It's been my dream to attend."

"No, no, I get it! It really is exciting to getting in, and it's like a weird dream I don't want to wake up from," Naegi agreed.

The two boys beamed at one another, both their hopes shining brightly over the subject of Hope's Peak.

"I'm Hinata. _Hajime Hinata_," the broad-chested boy—who Naegi finally knew the name of—said, holding out his hand.

"My name's Makoto Naegi," the short boy responded, taking Hinata's outstretched hand and shaking it.

They chatted with one another as they made a trip around the multi-store. Naegi didn't want to stop talking with Hinata, who had such a pull that it felt natural and comfortable to just keep talking with him. He didn't even mention that he'd made a trip through the place already.

Never once in their conversation did the subject of their titles come up.

For one, Naegi didn't think to bring his up since his was so insignificant, and was the title simply for those that won the Hope's Peak lottery. He simply assumed that Hinata had a title, but didn't want to share it, so as to be polite and not make him uncomfortable.

As for Hinata, he didn't **want** to bring his up. Especially with his precarious deal with the school. He didn't want to explain that he was simply taking the sub-course, but that this year he would enter the main class with a title of his own. He assumed that Naegi wasn't in the main class, and was simply taking the sub-course, and he didn't want to make the situation for either of them uncomfortable.

They both simply went home after their enthusiastic talk, their hopes shining brightly.

They looked forwards to their newest year at Hope's Peak Academy.


	5. Go Fish

**AN**: I skipped posting last week because I was busy graduating from High School. I had to do preparations and stuff, so whoops.

Anyways, a note on names here: _I seem to flip flop between how I refer to people, between first and last names_._ A lot._ It's been a problem since I was introduced to the Let's Play of Dangan Ronpa- -before any localization. It'll take me a while to set myself on one way or another.

Also, I'm going to compromise on Celestia. I'm going to refer to her as Celest, and have her only articulate a light accent in her speech. A midway on the Japanese and English versions.

* * *

Celestia Ludenberg x Nagito Komaeda

[celeskoma, komaceles]

Go Fish

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

"Do you have any sixes?" she asked lightly, eyes watching him calculatedly.

"Go Fish, Celest-san," the cheerful boy grinned.

_Celestia Ludenberg_ had decided to try her hand at playing Go Fish with the upperclassman _Ultimate Lucky Student_, _Nagito Komaeda_.

She decided to rope him into playing a few rounds of cards with him, to test his luck. He happily complied, saying that it was an honor to see her talent, and to be fodder for her hope.

Instantly, she liked this boy.

Celest can appreciate a submissive, helpful man, after all. She had made it a mission of hers to find any men that could possibly rise above D-rank, so she'd be very sharp about such things.

She ultimately decided to start them off with something easy to test the waters. A card game that literally anyone could play: Go Fish.

However, Komaeda was steadily kicking her ass.

She didn't know **how**. She managed to get into _Hope's Peak Academy_ with the title of _Ultimate Gambler_, so why the hell wasn't she winning like she normally did?!

Yes, luck played a large factor into winning at gambling, other than strategy. And she was born incredibly lucky when it came to games, cards, and just plain gambling.

However, it looked like Komaeda's luck was **greater**. This was the **third** game of Go Fish, after he sweeped her in the last two in ten minutes. This third game she was holding on longer, but he was still pushing her back into a corner.

If he was **this** lucky with just a stupidly simple game as Go Fish…Then how great would his luck be in a **real** game of cards…?

She didn't even want to find out, currently. She felt pissed— and she was gritting her teeth, trying to fight it down. She'd find out later, whenever she amassed more patience to sit down and play more cards with him.

You can only take Komaeda's presence in small doses, after all. His mannerisms—cheerfulness, whispy voice, stupid smile, and constant self-deprecation—weren't really so annoying one at a time for short times. But they sure as hell got annoying altogether for long periods.

**Especially** when she was losing so spectacularly.

She hung on just a bit longer, before, with a grin and a flourish, Komaeda ended the game. With another win.

A straight three out of three.

"Best…Four out of seven? Or how about six out of ten?" Komaeda suggested.

Celest merely grit her teeth, trying to give a pleasant smile that was obviously forced and painful.

"Oh no, it is fine. I have somezing I must do soon, and I do not vant to risk being late," she told him, straining to make her voice light and melodic.

"Ah! Alright then, Celest-san. I wouldn't want you to waste your time with me, and ruin your evening," Komaeda said, giving her a pleasant smile that was true and realistic, contrasting with Celest's stiff and fake one.

'Oh, but you already have, you shitty piece of microwaved soap,' Celest thought scathingly. She vowed that as soon as possible, she would microwave a piece of soap and then set it on fire. Then run it over with a golf cart.

That sounded nice.

"See you some ozer day, Komaeda-san. I expect a few matches of cards, vith much more difficult games than a zimple Go Fish," Celest said, poising herself perfectly as to not give anything away to the tall, lanky boy.

"Ah—then I suppose I shall see you later, Celest-san, if you really want to be in my presence some other day!" Komaeda said cheerily, waving at her as he began to go lumber off in hopes of finding some other interesting hopefuls to interact with.

Celest watched him leave, noting with satisfaction that he was bowled over by a sprinting _Aoi Asahina_, who didn't stop and simply yelled an apology over her shoulder.

The gambler smiled widely, and decided that she needed to buy her athletic classmate some of the donut flavors she was always raving about, as a reward for her wonderful trampling of Nagito Komaeda.

After all, his luck trampled over hers. It was time for karma and bad luck to get him back.


	6. Fortune and the Tofu Express Ship

**AN**: I've been a bit late on posting, so I present the first ever chapter set during the games/ Mutual Killing!

I've watched a play-through of the dubbed game, which was good despite people's nitpicking about it. I've picked up referring to most of the characters by first names more naturally, and even the nicknames some have.

_To clear something up in this chapter_: I'm pretty sure in most translations, Hagakure thinks that Togami has a softer side/ is a tsundere. And either he or Asahina exasperatedly say that Byakuya and Touko are kind of made for one another, with how difficult they both are. I ship everything, so I decided to give you all a double-serving of shipping.

_Spoilers of some of the survivors in the game, in the last paragraph._ You know, the usual.

Also, to the Guest reviewer: I'll get on that request. I have a soft spot for Naegi/Fukawa as well.

* * *

Yasuhiro Hagakure x Byakuya Togami

(Togahaga, Togakure, Hirogami)

Fortune and the Tofu Express Ship

(_Mutual Killing_)

* * *

The last case was something incredibly enjoyable for one _Byakuya Togami_.

After all, he made it more…interesting. What better way to know if _Touko Fukawa_ was telling the truth, than to lead circumstantial evidence pointing to her and make her secrets be revealed?

Although, _Kyoko Kirigiri_ just had to one-up him. Typical. She was such a mystery, that of **course** she could have an ace hidden in her sleeves.

However, that was all behind the _Ultimate Heir_. Right now, the group was currently busy with exploring the new floor that opened up. Just like previously, after they got the culprit right and the trial ended, a new floor of the school opened to the group of students. This time, it was the third floor that had become accessible.

Byakuya was blissfully taking his time examining the Music Room—which had a beautiful, rare model Grand Piano in the middle of the polished stage— when the door opened and in stepped someone idiotic and repulsive.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't Fukawa— who had decided in her delusional fantasies that he **needed** her presence, and thus stalked him relentlessly.

Rather, it was _Yasuhiro Hagakure_, who had insisted that everyone call him '_Hiro'_. As if his nickname could mask his stupidity and cowardice. His age from being held back 3 years—absolutely pathetic a feat, really—certainly did not make him any wiser.

"Oh! Hey, Byakuya-chi!" the dreadlocked man greeted cheerfully.

"Hagakure," Byakuya answered with disinterest, trying to ignore the conman.

"So, that last trial had me thinkin'…" Hiro started, passing a finger under his nose.

"Well that's a surprise," said Byakuya bluntly.

Hiro seemed to have ignored him, or was simply not listening as he strained his brain to 'think'. Honestly, Byakuya felt a smidge of pity for the gray matter in the other student's noggin. It must not have been used much in its pitiful life.

"Do ya want your fortune told **now**, Byakuya-chi?" Hiro asked him, grinning. "I know you definitely said no last time, but I mean…'cuz Touko-chi and you were **really** involved with the last trial, and she seems super attached to you and stuff..."

"**Excuse** me?" Byakuya hissed as he glared at the other's stupidly stubble-filled face.

"I can tell you your love future—and see if you end up with Touko-chi or not, right? I've got 20% accuracy 100% of the time, remember? That's the tip top of clairvoyance in the fortune telling circuit!" Hiro said, grinning, as if he said the most brilliant thing in the world.

"For one, those odds are atrocious—" Byakuya started.

"Hey! Those are good odds! I'm the real deal, not like those other phony fortune tellers that just shuffle cards or make vague guesses!" Hiro insisted angrily, pointing a finger at Byakuya.

"**Two**," Byakuya spit angrily, peeved at being interrupted by such an imbecile, "I will **never** consider Fukawa worthy of **anything**, much less romanticism."

"You can be sure, though! For serious, man!" Hiro interjected, all but pleading with the blonde boy. "If there's any chance where you can make **sure**, than this is it!"

"No," said Byakuya blunted.

"**C'mon**! Most rich people **love** my fortunes!" Hiro wheedled. "I once got this company heiress so hooked with 'em that she gave me her entire fortune, Byakuya-chi! That's **gotta** tell how good I am with 'em!"

"It shows how good you are a conman," Byakuya growled.

"Wow, what a thoughtful thing to say," Hiro grinned, but then his face faltered once he thought over the implications. "Hey! For how important my predictions are, I give a fair price! It's not conning if people want 'em and pay for my services out of their volition!"

"This is no issue of money. I could fund your retirement if I so chose," Byakuya said hautingly. "It is your moronic ideas of I and that trash of a girl ever becoming… _close_."

Byakuya scrunched his face in disgust, and actually gave a shiver. A subservient girl that would do his bidding, that's fine enough. He could consider to take her in as a maid, a servant, even a mistress. But one as **vile** as her? Who has a **serial killer split personality**?

No. Never. Not in a millennia.

"What's the matter? You guys already **are** close. You're the only ones that can really stand each other," Hiro stated. "Plus, I ship it."

"You **what**?" Byakuya asked, his brow furrowed quizzically at hearing the odd term.

"Ship it. Y'know, 'cuz you both **do** make a good pair," Hiro said, smiling, a fist on his chest.

"Dear God…" Byakuya groaned in exasperation as he massaged his aching temples.

"C'mon, Byakuya-chi, you don't need to keep showing your harsh side. I know there's a softer part of you," said, grinning goofily. "And if you're **really** denying it so much—you and Touko-chi, the Tofu Express Ship—than just get your fortune read by me to let it rest once and for all!"

He **did** make a surprising amount of sense…

"_No, that's just him being a persuasive conman. Don't fall for his tricks. Give a vague agreement that should happen after an unspecified amount of time…_" Byakuya thought to himself. "_It's worked on various businessmen; it'll work with someone as simple as Hagakure._"

"Hmph. You're quite the pest," Togami said, teeth gritting. "Fine. I will get a fortune by you—"

Before he could finish, Hiro burst out cheering, heartily commending Byakuya for his life choices.

"**When**, and only when, **we both leave this school**. **That** is when I will buy a fortune reading from you," Byakuya finished, unable to fight the smirk from his face.

Really, only a moron like Hagakure would believe that there ever **was** a possibility of more than one coming out alive in this game, much less one where **both** of them could get out to seal the deal.

It was a perfect deal, and a perfect lie. Now the buffoon wouldn't pester him for a fortune, blinded by his visions of the amount of money he'd receive for a commissioned fortune.

"Whoohoo! It's a deal, Byakuya-chi! For serious!" Hiro cheered, practically glowing from how hard he was beaming. It was as if he was a Sun God of sorts— with his bright countenance, and shitty dreaded atrocity of a hairdo that mimicked a sunrise.

"Yes, yes. Now never speak of it again. I must go explore the other rooms of this floor," Byakuya drawled as he purposefully strode to the door to leave the _Ultimate Clairvoyant _behind in his futile celebrations.

Little did Byakuya know, that in the future—the near future, even, of about just one month—he would actually take up Hiro's offer of a fortune reading. And that his perfect deal—his perfectly crafted lie, that he'd known was **never** going to come to fruition— would actually come to pass.


	7. Bashfullness and the Book

**AN**: I love writing Fukawa, and I love writing Naegi. Writing them both together, and added the fact that I ship them, MADE THIS X4 THE FUN. It also explains why this is the longest chapter to date. Whoops.

This chapter was requested by Guest reviewer.

(Also, I forgot to add last chapter: _Togami x Hagakure is, surprisingly, a popular ship in Japan_. The more you know)

* * *

REQUESTED:

Touko Fukawa x Makoto Naegi

(Naegawa, Naefuka, Toukoto)

Bashfulness and the Book

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Touko Fukawa_ wasn't one for idling about. Whenever classes ended, she headed straight to the library or to her room at the dorms.

She knew people hated her presence, and she hated other people. So why stay where you're not wanted?

This particular fact didn't really bother her; that's just how things were, for as long as she could remember. And besides—she **enjoyed** solitude. It's what she grew up with. It's what calmed her after a long time of interaction with other disgusting people. It's what made her comfortable and gave her inspiration to write.

So naturally, she would be irked whenever her alone time was **squandered** from her without a warning.

She'd been minding her own business, sitting comfortably on her bed with a chapter of her newest project to revise, locked up in her dorm room per usual. Then her doorbell rang its annoying tone, and it ruined her precise revision—in the **middle** of a text-heavy page, no less. Smack dab on the center of the paragraph that had taken her the longest time to gain inspiration and write.

Touko let out a strangled growl, the grip on her chapter tightening. She should just ignore it. It was probably a stupid prank, anyway.

More likely than not, it was just **stupid** Leon with a **stupidly** typical trick. Like a bag of dog crap on fire, or something equally pseudo-punk.

She sat rigidly on her bed, hoping that nothing else would happen, and she could go back to re-reading her work. She stared down at her papers with a hard look in her eye, and wished that she'd been given the peace of the afternoon that she needed.

She had a book to write, manuscripts to send out to publishers, and fans to please. She didn't need interruptions. She didn't have **time** for interruptions.

However, her hopes weren't answered. After a full minute of silence—which Touko had spent glaring angrily down at her papers with a somewhat unfocused gaze—a knock came at the door.

It was any normal knock, if a bit on the hesitant side. That ruled out most troublemakers and extreme annoyances; they'd bang on the door or ring her bell multiple times.

Again, came the knocking—but even more softly and hesitantly than before. That certainly narrowed the list—not many of her classmates were so…meek, when it came to addressing their thoughts. And a handful of others were polite—but they wouldn't knock like **this**, per se.

That narrowed it down to either _Chihiro Fujisaki_ or _Makoto Naegi_. Both were annoying with their 'cuteness' and gentleness, but they weren't as annoying as most. Other than her White Knight Byakuya, they were classmates she wouldn't mind, if they so happened to knock on her door.

After all, they were smaller and more pathetic than her—with the bonus of being softhearted. That means less of a chance for them to make fun of her. That means they were actually tolerable compared to the average scum.

Touko sighed, her resolve to stay where she was slipping away like her attention span for her chapter. She slowly put the chapter on her bed, and stared at the door of her room—as if her thoughts could force the person at the door to reveal who they were.

After a few seconds, the intercom buzzer for her doorbell crackled to life.

"_Ah…Fukawa-san, are you there…? I'm sorry if you are, and I'm bothering you. Um, can I ask you something?"_

She startled slightly. It was Naegi. There was no mistaking the hesitancy and kindness in the voice, nor the bland normality.

She got up from her bed, glad that she had on a very presentable (not to mention comfortable) long sleeve button-up, along with her old uniform skirt that was floor-length and hid her scars for so many years. She had refrained from putting on her pajama set earlier, for fear that it would make her attention span shorter and make her sleepier whilst she was editing her work.

She slipped on her slip-on shoes, and padded to her door. She gripped the knob, her stomach tightening, and she steeled herself for this possible 'question' that Naegi had in mind.

For a wonderfully horrible moment, the thought of Naegi asking her out appeared in her mind. She squashed that thought—along with the butterflies it produced in her stomach—and stared down at the knob in her white-knuckled grip.

No, that wouldn't happen. "_Stupid mind, making untrue fantasies at a time like this_," she whispered harshly to herself.

If he were to do something like that, it would be a prank.

…Then again, he doesn't seem the type that would do such a thing, even on someone as hated as herself. He was too…soft.

That realization gave her the confidence and energy to twist the knob and open the door. However, the energy was a bit too much, as she swung the door fully open, when she'd only planned to peak outside.

Surprisingly enough, the short boy was still there on the other side of the doorframe. Touko had half-considered that he'd leave, with how long she took to answer the door. He could have easily considered that she was not in her room, and left.

And yet, he was there. He'd actually been patient enough to wait, hopeful that she was in her room.

The boy himself was surprised when the door opened. For one, that Fukawa was actually where he'd hope she would be. Two, that she swung open her door so forcefully, when everything about her would point to her only peeking out the door.

And third—that Fukawa was…Dressed so **nice**. What she was wearing seemed too nice to just wear casually. Unless she usually dressed professionally, because of her being a renound author and all.

Either way, Makoto thought she looked nice. He'd never seen her with anything outside of a long-skirted school uniform. She looked…well, more **shapely** than he ever noticed.

Naegi just stood there, seemingly flabbergasted. His mouth was gaping, and he'd quickly turned red.

A small part of Touko felt like floating, because she'd gotten such a reaction from him, even if she'd never planned it or thought it even possible. Then she embarrassingly berated that part in her mind.

"Y…You w-wanted something?" she asked, tendrils of embarrassment starting to creep up on her.

Naegi opened his mouth various times, trying to re-iterate why he'd been looking for her, with little success. He'd gone through a good number of stumbles and literacy fillers, before he managed to get out something intelligible.

"Er, yeah. I wanted to ask you something," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. With the other, he held out a book towards her. "I wanted to ask if you wanted this book?"

He was very pink, and seemed very uncertain. The sight before her made Touko's heart flutter, and her breath caught in her throat.

It was like a dream. She'd dreamed that a boy would be embarrassed and sweet at her door. That a boy would look so adorable, and then present her with something thoughtful, like a book or a card. It was like a type of scenario that she wrote about in her romance novels, but tailored more towards her own hopes and interests.

Her face felt hot, and she knew she was blushing as much as he was. The silence seemed to stretch out, and the moment seemed like it was eternal.

Then—seemingly unable to take the awkward and heavy silence—the boy with the ahoge started to ramble.

"I, ah, won it in a raffle—at the school store. The raffle they'd announced a week back," he started nervously, eyes darting everywhere but her.

"T-They had b-books as p-prizes?" she asked suddenly. That new fact made her want to try her hand at the raffle. She'd never entered many raffles. She always lost, and they made her feel worse than **before** she'd entered them.

"Er, yeah," he answered, looking away from her bashfully. "I-I'm not much of a reader, and I usually just read the really popular stuff from the young adults section that gets recommended everywhere. So, I thought—well, **I** wouldn't read it, so I should give it to someone else, so that they can enjoy it."

"Then I thought: Fukawa likes books. She'd probably read and enjoy it. Maybe she'd like another to go in her collection. It'd be in good hands, if I gave it to her…And, yeah," Naegi said, finishing his rambling lamely. He nervously shifted his gaze away from the interesting hallway carpet the next door down, back to see Fukawa's reaction.

She was staring wide-eyed, her mouth gaping, her face pink, with a fist on her chest. Makoto honestly thought that she belonged on the cover of a book. She looked cute like that, even.

"Um…Of course, you don't **have** to take it…" he said, laughing nervously, doubt filling his stomach.

A heavy moment passed, before Fukawa quickly snatched the book he held out. He instantly felt lighter, and he finally let the wary arm that had held up the book the entire time, to fall by his side.

Touko held the book closely to her chest, head ducked, mumbling under her breath about how stupid Naegi was. She looked past her unruly bangs to see that the boy was beaming at her brightly, undeterred by the rude things she'd been muttering.

"T-t-thank y-you," she said hastily, her hand on her doorknob. She backed a step, book still clutched to her heart, and closed the door quickly on Naegi's radiant, fulfilled face.

She quickly locked the door, then leant on the wall next to the door, a happy sigh leaving her mouth. She walked to her bed with light, shaky steps, plopping herself on her back on the mattress.

She held the book to her heart with both her hands, oddly and deliriously joyous. Her heart and stomach were fluttering like crazy, and she couldn't help the loony grin spreading across her lips.

She wanted to stop. She was being stupid. She was imagining things. Naegi hung out with prettier girls. He didn't think she was pretty, and she was just hoping he'd react with a sign of attraction. Nothing romantic **ever** happened to her. This was all a dream.

"But this book feels real enough," she muttered, soft smile still on her face despite her inner misgivings.

She lifted the book to take a proper look at its cover. At the bottom, an accolade was printed saying it was a "_wonderfully realistic romance_". The cover image was of a dark-haired young woman's portrait staring intently to the left, with a young man's portrait being back-to-back with hers, staring intently at the right.

The title was _Blossoming Beginnings_.

It seemed so cliché, that Touko laughed. Of **course** it occurred to him to give it to her. It was an atypical romance novel.

She sighed, laying the book on her chest again.

She had a distinct feeling that this book was going to become one of her most prized ones.


	8. Youthful Spirits

**AN**: I'm really glad that the last chapter garnered such a positive response! I seemed to have put more effort in their chapter, so I'm glad that it showed!

This is a fairly short, but quickly uploaded chapter. The reviews, and the fact that I got my drivers permit, made me pretty happy and energetic to upload something. And who better to center a chapter around than two very energetic athletes? Alas, the ending is pretty terrible, but I lost steam towards the end.

For some reviewer responses:

_Yuki-Rin: Your reviews are always hilarious, and greatly appreciated, my old friend._

_anonime: Thank you! And I'll make sure to work on the Naegi/Junko you requested!_

_cvi: Aw, thank you! I always seem to make Fukawa or Naegi chapters fun and fluffy, haha_

* * *

Aoi Asahina x Nekomaru Nidai

(Nidaoi, AsaNidai, Nidasa)

Youthful Spirits

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Aoi Asahina, _the _Ultimate Swimmer_, only spent about a week getting used to school life at the famous _Hope's Peak Academy_.

After that, she was hyperactive and ready to play some sports, like in her previous school.

The weird thing is that Hope's Peak didn't seem to have many sports teams. One would think that they would, with how much talent the school's pupils had. But then again, one also had to note that any new class could have little to zero sports talent, and make all the teams become short on people.

But Aoi Asahina didn't fret. She was a little disappointed that one of the best schools in the world couldn't be able to keep up with her with her energy for sports. But then she remembered that the school had a gorgeous competitive indoor pool, a track circuit, a large weights room, a practice dojo, a Gym, and various fields that could be able to house various Ultimate students' self-practices.

She decided to burn off her energy first by sprinting towards one of the large fields.

There, she met probably one of the coolest people ever. The _Ultimate Coach_, who was responsible for creating the best teams in Japan from the most hopeless bunches of losers. Every underdog or sports fan's man, _Nekomaru Nidai_.

She screeched to a halt in front of him, feet dug into the ground, creating a long trail in the field.

"Oh my god! You're Nekomaru Nidai!" she yelled in awe, pointing out the obvious.

He looked down at her tiny form, laughing loudly.

"Gahaha! Yes, I am!" he told her, grinning. "And by your athleticism, I see that you are a sports student attending here."

"Yeah! I'm Aoi Asahina, Ultimate Swimmer! My friends call me Hina!" Hina grinned largely, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Ah, the Ultimate Swimmer! Yes, you do well with both solo events and team events, I'd noticed," Nidai said, nodding his head whilst crossing his arms.

Hina laughed happily, still on a high from seeing one of her idols in the flesh.

"That is very commendable, Miss Hina! And from the speed in your sprinting, I would have to guess that you are also athletic in other ways! It's always best to train yourself in many ways, to help supplement your team!" Nidai said loudly, a large grin on his face.

"Yeah, definitely! I can't keep still—I just gotta keep moving and exercising more!" Hina said energetically, pumping her fists.

"Yes! We are all fueled by THE FLAMES OF YOOOOUTH!" Nidai said boastfully, his voice roaring like a lion.

"THE FLAMES OF YOOOOUTH!" Asahina repeated, spurred by Nidai's loudness.

"THE FLAMES OF YOOOOOUTH!"

"THE FLAMES OF YOOOOOUTH!"

After a bit more shouting, they both burst out laughing.

"So, Miss Hina…! What other physical activities are you into?" Nidai asked her curiously.

"Oh, well I was in 6 sports clubs in junior high!" Asahina told him, smiling an excited smile to hear his opinion.

"Six sport clubs?" Nidai asked, gawking slightly at her. Her grin brightened at his surprise, and got even wider when he praised her. "That is amazing! A TRUE SPORTSMAN! Or should I shay, sportsWOMAN!"

They both laughed at his super duper cool joke in-sync, then Nidai asked her, "So, tell me of your former clubs, Miss Hina!"

The short girl bounced on her feet again, then swayed from side to side. "Oh well, of **course** I was on the swim team. And you've seen me run—so you probably guessed I was on the track team. I did basketball too…"

She kept rambling, and Nidai nodded, impressed. They then got into a long conversation about the importance of constant physical activity.

They finally parted with a promise of working out together in the mornings, with another few physical Ultimate students. Hina promising to definitely get Sakura-chan to go as well, and get into the workouts.

They were certainly youthful spirits, and bursting with energy.


	9. Despairingly Hopeful Friendship

**AN**: I've lost control of my life. I've been writing Dangan Ronpa fics like crazy this past week. It's the reason why I delayed this chapter— because I already uploaded two 4k fics on my account.

Anyways, this chapter was fun to write. Like, Ultimate levels of fun. It's also a _songfic_ *sweats nervously* because I got a song stuck in my head this week, and I used it for this chapter. And listened to it on repeat while writing it. Whoops.

This is definitely the longest chapter posted on this fic, to date.

_Song used: Celebrity Status by Marianas Trench_. (It's more fitting for LeoSaya, but I don't care at this point. **It's a catchy song okay**)

_Around 3700 words (with lyrics). Around 3330 words (without lyrics)_

* * *

REQUESTED (by anonime)

Makoto Naegi x Junko Enoshima

(Junaegi, Naejunko, Junkoto, Naeshima, hopexdespair)

Despairingly Hopeful Friendship (and Celebrity Status)

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

It was Wednesday afternoon.

The seconds ticked down on the classroom's clock, before the final toll rang throughout the school.

Japanese History was **finally** over. And so was the school day. The class bustled and buzzed, happy that the long day had come to a close.

_Makoto Naegi_, however, had a delayed response. He'd fallen asleep ten minutes into the lecture, and was incredibly disoriented after being awoken by the shrill bell.

Makoto found Japanese History to be boring. He didn't mind World History, because at least it told of other countries' histories and stories. Japanese history was rich, but it was so…seemingly commonplace, that it bored the ahoge-haired boy.

It didn't help matters that he stayed up late last night to study for the Geometry test. Nor did it also help that Japanese History was the last class of the day, for this rotation.

Makoto had been bleary-eyed throughout most of the day, bar Lunch and English class. Those parts were always either interesting or loud enough that he would snap out of his fatigue-induced haze. He'd tried to snap out of it for the Geometry class that he'd studied for, but the fact that the test looked ten times harder than the study material didn't help his head at all.

So whilst his classmates were buzzing and packing around him, Makoto just rubbed at his eyes sleepily, and tried to blink away the grogginess. He then wiped the small trail of drool off his face, and tried to straighten out his bangs.

He sluggishly put his notebook and pencil back into his school bag, still seated, and noted that he at least closed his notebook before he took his sudden nap. The bad thing was that he had no notes for that class, now. He'd have to borrow them from someone.

He looked around the classroom. Surprisingly enough, most of his friends were either gone, or talking in pairs.

Ishimaru, punctual as always, was gone. He took good, thorough notes, taking school incredibly seriously. He would reprimand Makoto for his reason to borrow the notes, but would have been happy to assist a fellow classmate, and lend them to him.

Sayaka, Fujisaki, Kyoko, and Ikusaba also took good notes, and would have been happy to assist him—however, they were also absent from the class.

Odd.

Kyoko and Fujisaki usually left class promptly, unless they had someone talkative to hold them back. However, Ikusaba and Sayaka often stayed.

Ikusaba was usually seen with her sister, but she wasn't anywhere near the strawberry blonde. Sayaka would have chatted with him, or stayed in the room to chat with the other girls—mainly _Junko_.

It was still odd to refer to Enoshima-san as Junko, but she always insisted to be called by her first name. He only called close friends by their first name, so he reserved only thinking about her in her first name, instead of referring her by it aloud.

She had quite the Celebrity Status, so it would be just plain weird for someone like him to call her by her first name.

He noted that the last of his classmates had trickled out of the room while he tried to orient himself again, giving him passing goodbyes that he'd belatedly return.

(_Look around, round, look around, round, look around_)

The only one left was Junko. Junko, who was usually accompanied by at least one or two girls.

She was just sitting at her desk with a compact mirror in one hand, and a tube of lipstick in another. She made odd faces into the mirror, as if seeing how good the makeup was from all angles on her lips.

Makoto could only stare at her. For some reason, the sight was mesmerizing.

The pigtailed girl closed her compact with a '_snap!_' that made Makoto jump in his skin. She then grandly looked around the room, as if a queen, before her eyes squarely befell Makoto.

(_I look around, round, look around, and look it over_)

He felt himself gulp. He felt like a rabbit that was about to be devoured by a fox.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Junko stowed her makeup away, and got up out of her seat, her trendy school bag slung over one shoulder. Her gaze never left Makoto, and his never left hers—both in fear of the consequences, and because he felt petrified in place.

She walked—flounced, stalked, sashayed—towards him confidentially, as if she was on a catwalk. The way she walked was powerful; it told a story.

The story being that _Junko Enoshima_ was the grandest of people, and she could easily kill anyone that **dared** get in her way.

"Sooooo, Makoto," Junko started, her voice like silk, once she was right next to his desk. He had to crane his neck from how much she towered over him whilst he was sitting at his desk. He was already short next to her standing; the size difference was worse when he was sitting down.

It also didn't help that she had a sizable bust, because the undersides of her breasts were pretty blatant in his vision.

(_I take it up, up, take it out, and take you nowhere,  
Trading in who I've been for shiny celebrity skin_)

"Er, y-yes?" he asked nervously, feeling like the shortest teenager ever (which he knew wasn't true. He'd seen sempai at this Academy that were **way** shorter than him).

"Whatcha doin', just sitting there at your desk?" she asked, her voice gaining a slightly harsher edge. "Still waking up from your little nappie?"

He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Y-Yeah, a bit. The lecture was making me drowsy, so I kinda conked out," he said in a self-depreciative manner.

"Aw, that's **adorable**," she said with a more girlish voice. "Little negg all tuckered out from a boring history lesson."

"Errrr," Makoto mumbled, feeling very embarrassed and confused. He wasn't sure if she was making fun of him, or what. The girlish voice and pet name (negg? Where the hell did she even **get** that from? His last name?) didn't help matters.

"You didn't write down any notes, did you?" she said in a matter-of-fact voice. Her question didn't even sound like one—it sounded more like a statement.

"No, I didn't. I was going to ask some of the others, but I was kind of out of it," Makoto admitted, scratching at his cheek.

"Hm. Well, you coulda asked me, but I've got nothin'," she stated peppily, giving an odd-sounding laugh. Something like '_upupupu'_ or '_puhuhuhu'_.

"Ah. Well, thanks anyway, Enoshima-san," Makoto told her, now a bit on-edge. He stood up at his desk, ready to split—maybe he could catch up with Sayaka, and ask for her help.

It was always kind of terrifying to talk to Junko by himself—he didn't know why, but it **was**. There was just something about her that made him want to interact with her the least he could get away with, without seeming rude.

She didn't do anything wrong, from what he could tell, so he had no reason or **proof** to worry. But still, something always felt…Off, with her.

It could simply be the fact that they clashed too much. They seemed to be polar opposites—on the opposite sides of the spectrum. (Whatever spectrum **that** was, because he wasn't even sure about that fact.) They were just **different** from one another.

But before he could move—move **far** away from Junko Enoshima—a claw-like grip was on his shoulder. He suddenly felt ice fill his veins.

The moment of instinctual icy dread was gone, as Junko hooked her arm around his head, smooshing their bodies hip-to-hip. Now, Makoto only felt hot.

"Awww, c'mon, Makoto! I told you to call me Junko-chan!" Junko said loudly. "It's a **way** more fitting way to say my name."

(_I like to push it and push it until my luck is over)_

"Um, I just don't feel comfortable—" Makoto started meekly, before being interrupted by the blonde again.

"Do it," Junko warned darkly, as she shifted her grip on his head, and had him in an almost-headlock. The side of his face was smashed into the side of her right breast.

"O-Okay," Makoto said warily, his heartbeat racing, thoroughly threatened.

"Um…J…Junko-chan." He'd said her name slowly and hesitantly, feeling doubly uncomfortable with his face smashed on one of her boobs.

However, the name sounded…Oddly nice.

It was nice to say. He could understand why so many people talked and gossiped about her, if only to say her name.

"Good, good," Junko said, practically purring, an extremely pleased look on her face. Her grip on him loosened, and he quickly jerked his head away from her bust, face pink.

Junko Enoshima cooed down at the short boy. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" she said sweetly.

Makoto Naegi shook his head slowly, his face becoming an even **more** adorable shade of pink. He seemed to take particular care not to move his head too far to the left, towards where it had been smashed in her bust before.

(_It never stop stops, never stops, well you better_)

"Really, Makoto, you **must** say my first name more," she started, her queenly persona seeping into her tone. She still had an arm around his neck, but brought her hand up to stroke through his hair— akin to a loving mother stroking a son's hair, comforting him after he finally did something he was hesitant to do before.

She felt his tension lessen slightly with the stroking of his hair, but he still looked rather hesitant. He looked up at her with doubtful, yet still bright, eyes.

"Um, it's just that…I only call close friends by their first names," the short boy said quietly, his voice honest.

Ah, yes. Makoto Naegi's name did fit him rather well. Honesty Saplingtree.

Honest to a fault. Small, yet supportive, like a sapling tree.

(_Think it over, prima donna, you don't want to sever,  
All the work to impress, charming girls out of their dresses_)

"But aren't **we** close friends, Makoto?" she asked, feeling her depressed persona come forth. "We're classmates, and we're already on a first-name basis…"

Junko's hand had stopped petting him—which had been super awkward, but kind of nice— and now she sounded depressed.

He didn't know how to handle **regular** Junko, much less a depressed Junko. Especially since **he** was the one that caused it.

"Um…I suppose so. If you want," Makoto said unsurely. "I didn't mean to say that we weren't friends or anything, er, J-Junko…chan."

She seemed to instantly brighten at that. She gave a loud "fuck yeah!", which took him aback—she only said that when she was incredibly excited, or agreed with something wholeheartedly.

"No take-backs, Makoto!" She told him voraciously. "Do that, and I'll rip ya to shreds with my nails!"

"I…don't doubt it," Makoto mumbled, a small shiver running down his spine.

She was at least back in good spirits…kind of.

One could never tell with her.

(_Smiling pretty, well, pretty will swallow you forever_)

"I have a question, though…," he told her, after a bit of deliberation over his actions.

"Hm? And that would be?" she asked analytically, looking down at him with cold, yet curious, eyes.

"Why me?" he blurted out, before backpedaling to explain himself. "I mean, I'm nothing special. I'm as plain as vanilla yogurt. I didn't even get into _Hope's Peak Academy_ with a talent. So then why…"

Junko blinked down at him, actually looking slightly taken aback. For a second, her face was completely blank—and Makoto could see the resemblance between her and her twin, clear as day.

Then another seemingly endless facet of Junko activated, and the blankness was gone.

_(Step one, step two, step three, repeat)_

"Oh, Makoto! Are you trying to get a love confession out of me?" she asked with rather fake-sounding flustered voice. A blush bloomed on her face, and a hand was under the side of her face.

"Er…" Makoto mumbled, confusion plastered across his face.

(_And I pray at the church of asses in the seats,  
I disappear behind the beat,  
Yeah_)

"Just kidding," Junko Enoshima laughed. The look on Makoto Naegi's face was **hilarious** to her. She hadn't used her embarrassed persona in a long time—and its use gave her amusing results.

"So, why you, to try to be close friends with?" she asked, letting him go to cross her arms casually. She was in one of her more contemplative personas, to fit the mood of the question.

(_When the mirrors, and the lights, and the smoke clear,  
I'd never guess how we ever could have got here_)

She couldn't really tell him the real reason. No, she had to use a carefully crafted lie that seemed like a truth.

(_You can say, what you say, when the lights go down_)

"Because you're the only guy who'd look, not leer, and treat me nice like you do everyone else," she stated.

That certainly came out of left field. Junko seemed serious. No more jokes, taunting, or flirting— just…the truth.

"But… I'm sure I'm not the only one who, er, leers," Makoto mumbles, still feeling confused at the one eighty of the conversation.

"No, but you're the nicest," she said, snorting scathingly. "Almost everyone else treats me negatively on principal—but you're always kind and optimistic to even the biggest assholes."

Makoto tried to say something, but Junko just kept rambling.

"**Seriously**, I've seen how you can even put up with **Togami** and **Fukawa**," she said, her hands open a foot from either side of her head, as she swayed left and right. "And everyone kind of trusts you, because of it, too."

"I, ah…I just think I'm optimistically kind," he said weakly, his mind spinning.

He never knew that she thought so highly of him, or that his entire class shared her opinion on the matter as well.

"There has to be more of a reason," she says suddenly, a dark, intense look on her face.

"Wha—" Makoto asked, a bit flabbergasted.

(_So shake, shake, shake,  
And shut your mouth_)

"There **has** to be a reason why you treat me so well, Makoto. What facet of me spurs you to interact so well with me?" she asked, her voice low and chillingly dark. One hand had come up to cover a part of her face, whilst the other hugged her waist.

He had to think of an answer that would satisfy her.

(_I wonder why, why, I wonder why, why I,  
Let you wreck, resurrect, whatever you wanna_)

Her body? No, she just said she hated guys who leered at her body.

Her actions? No, that could be seen as rude. Her actions were grand and loud, and many called her a huge gossip and problem-stirrer and such, because of them.

Her clothes (or lack thereof)? That would go over just a bit better, because of her being a Fashionista. However, it still sounded creepy.

Her personality?

…Actually, that sounded like the right thing to say. No matter how much she overwhelmed him and made him edgy, she was still interesting. She had a presence that was hard to ignore. (Something even far more than Celebrity Status.)

"So, what is it, Makoto?" she asked in her grand, highness voice, fists on her hips. "Choice A? …B? …C? …D?"

He wasn't sure why she was referring to there being choices, as if in a game— but he answered her promptly, nonetheless.

(_I can't depend, in the end_)

"I think…It's because of your personality," Makoto answered, feeling rather confident with his answer.

"Huh?" Junko asked, her face darkening in surprise. The expression looked blank, surprised, despairing—as if she'd just heard something so sudden and unthinkable that she just… shut down.

"I do well with talking with you, and stuff, because your personality is interesting," Makoto went on. "There's… just so many parts of you. A lot of different faces of Junko Enoshima."

She blinked, her face clearing from its darkness. It still looked blank—painfully neutral. But it seemed like she was thinking through his words, so he went on.

"You're not like most people, that way…It's…unique. Different," he went on, struggling to explain Junko's personality. "Your personality is just really unique. It, um, gets a lot of emotion and reactions, no matter what you do."

"So…It's my…Personality?" she asked blankly.

"Yeah," Makoto nodded surely. "And how I hope to understand it better."

A cold look came in her eyes when he mentioned hope—but it was so fleeting that he felt like it was a trick of the light.

(_You know, I thought you were my friend_)

But in this blank state, she really did look like Ikusaba. She just had a rosier complexion, a bigger bust, and rounder, bluer eyes.

Suddenly, Junko Enoshima burst into laughter.

It was the only thing she could do, really, in response to the stupid honesty of the ahoge-boy.

(_Just stop, just stop, just stop, I think I got it_)

She laughed and laughed until tears came down her face in streams, not even caring if her makeup got smeared.

If it did—which it mostly likely was—then that would make this all the more despair-inducing.

Such a stupidly optimistic boy.

Such a stupidly, optimistically, honest reason.

It was so stereotypical that it just made her laugh and despair harder.

Makoto just stared at Junko, who was doubled-over, laughing. He felt himself blush.

Was what he said **really** that stupid? That corny? That surprising?

(_Sorry you, sorry me, sorry every in-between_)

Junko's tears washed away her makeup, as if making her a blank slate once again. Her eyeliner (that's what the stuff the girls made to make their eyes look darker, right?) started to smear, creating dark rivers down the sides of her eyes. Wherever her tears would pass, it would wash off makeup, making the trails of tears look pale compared to the rest of her face.

(_Sorry, everybody here, will never be somebody clean_)

The only part that seemed untouched was her eye shadow, as it was above her eyes. But even then, when Junko tried to wipe away the tears of mirth, the color on her eyelids would wipe away as well.

The model finally straightened up, her tears almost gone.

She wiped a final one away from the edge of her eye, and then told Makoto, "I can see why so many people like you, Makoto. No wonder Muku-chan keeps wanting to be with you."

Makoto just gave a dumbfounded blink whilst he tried to puzzle out what she said.

(_There's a piece of me they're throwing back at us_)

"Don't tell any other mortals of our conversation, nor of my makeup smearing so spectacularly," Junko told him, voice deep and commanding. Makoto nodded dumbly.

"Good. You really are adorably vanilla," she said, grinning, as she ruffled his hair. He gave a whine, and tried to pat his hair back down; his ahoge somehow survived the assault. "Such a little herbivore man."

Junko Enoshima then left the short boy, sashaying away whilst she got out a makeup wipe from her makeup pack.

(_And they will buy you, and sell you, for Celebrity Status_)

She was wiping her face, just about to cross the threshold of the door, before Makoto Naegi's voice stopped her.

"Um, Junko-chan?" he asked, still sounding awkward with using the super-cute version of her name.

"Hmmmm?" she asked, turning her head a bit to look at him, while she wiped the left edge of her face.

"You have a friend in me, you know," he told her, grinning at her brightly with such a large amount of disgusting **hope** that her stomach twisted, and her despairing breath caught in her throat.

(_Step one, step two, step three, repeat_)

Makoto watched as Junko's expression turned completely blank. He knew that he broke through, and got the **true** Junko's attention. The one without a persona, who was neutral.

Her true face.

(_And I pray at the church of asses in the seats,  
I disappear behind the beat,  
Yeah_)

Then a breathtakingly mesmerizing look came into her eyes, that made his stomach twist painfully and his heart thud too hard in his chest. It was the most chilling look he'd ever seen in her eyes, during their time as classmates and friends.

(_When the mirrors, and the lights, and the smoke clear,  
I'd never guess how we ever could have got here_)

It looked almost like…a look full of **despair**.

"I know," she said simply, her face still her true one.

_(You can say, what you say, when the lights go down_)

She turned around again, and Makoto watched as the true Junko Enoshima truly left the classroom.

Once out of her smothering presence, Makoto felt like he could properly breathe.

He took a large breath, held it, and then exhaled it slowly.

(_So shake, shake, shake,  
And shut your mouth_)

He could see why everything seemed to revolve around her. She had many faces, many layers—and beneath it all, an intensity that made one dread it, yet want to cling to it.

(_When the mirrors, and the lights, and the smoke clear,  
I'd never guess how we ever could have got here,_

_You can say, what you say, when the lights go down,_

_So shake, shake, shake,  
And shut your mouth_)

But he still felt hope that she wouldn't have to be so…empty. He saw her true face—the beautiful void it was.

He still felt hope, that the chilling look in her eyes wasn't one of despair.

Maybe…Maybe he could help her, so that one day, she can be truly happy.

So that she wouldn't just be Celebrity Status and masks any longer.

(_Sorry you, sorry me, sorry every in between,_

_Sorry, everybody here, will never be somebody clean,_

_There's a piece of me they're throwing back at us,_

_And they will buy you, and sell you, for _

_Celebrity Status)_


	10. Sniffles and Swishies

**AN**: These chapters are progressively becoming longer, and at the same time, it's progressively taking longer for me to update this fic. However, I will persevere!

My friend wrote a sondam fic where Gundam's hamsters get sick— which doesn't have a happy ending at ALL. But I took the basic idea and turned it into something fluffy. I even researched hamsters getting sick, and their treatments, so Gundam's dialogue and care would seem more legit.

* * *

REQUESTED (by Mad-Wizard-in-221b)

Sonia Nevermind x Gundam Tanaka

(soniagundam, sondam, mechaprincess)

Sniffles and Swishies

(Mutual Killing)

* * *

_Sonia Nevermind_ was ever so intrigued by one _Gundam Tanaka_.

Why, cute little hamsters reside in his muffler! If that was not intriguing, then Sonia did not know **what** was!

However, the hamsters were not the **only** quality that Sonia Nevermind admired about Gundam Tanaka.

Why, the very moment she laid eyes on the tall boy, her interest was piqued. He had this…aura, look, stance—all full of intensity that simply made it hard for the Princess to **not** think of him.

Others may not think so favorably of the _Ultimate Breeder_ as she did, especially at first glance at the boy. However, Gundam's uniqueness—in his image, voice, thoughts, feelings, and the way he held himself—was something that fascinated her to no end.

If she were to make a list of all the qualities that made her interested in Gundam Tanaka, Sonia believed that the list would be lengthier than _Novoselic's_ laws. The list would be so vast, that not even her knowledge of thirty languages could help compile it, nor fully be able to explain the minute or grand details.

Sonia's attachment to Tanaka-san—and to the rest of her fellow classmates—could be accounted for the fact that she has led an extremely sheltered life, thus far. That would be a reason that most would use to explain the way of why Sonia attached herself so much to Tanaka-san.

However, there was simply…More.

There was much, much more to it.

…Suffice to say, Sonia Nevermind readily liked Gundam Tanaka, and considered them to be close to one another. Whenever the opportunity presented itself—when she had a seemingly large block of time to spend with others—she often went out of her way to spend time with Tanaka-san in private.

Which led to her current expedition, at this very moment in time.

For you see, Sonia—despite thinking herself close to the boy—never readily knew **where** he was, at one time or another. Tanaka-san liked to keep to himself, but would sometimes leave the confines of his cabin to be in other places, like the farm on the island, or the general store.

She supposes that she can simply look up his location on her ElectroID—as, curiously enough, each seemed to have a GPS to find any fellow Ultimate student at any point—but that just seemed…cheap. It took the meaning away, of trying to find Tanaka-san, to spend time with him,

Today, she had also seen Tanaka-san less than usual. He seemed…irate? Irritable? Irrational?

Whatever the case, it worried Sonia. She had asked him, when she'd crossed paths with him, if there was something wrong. However, he affirmed that he himself was fine, for he was Gundam Tanaka, and that mortal trivialities were of no consequence to him.

So she was determined to get to the bottom of this! She would not allow Tanaka-san to start feeling irritable, especially in the situation they were all thrust in, because of that dastardly Monokuma!

With a resolute nod to herself, Sonia once again went on her way to find one elusive male specimen named Tanaka-san.

After looking through most of the main island—and receiving many greetings from her friends, as well as a request to help her find whatever she was looking for by Souda-san—Sonia felt a bit miffed.

However, she did not lose hope! After all, she had not checked the cabins—which she'd overlooked, and in hindsight, **might** have been a better place to start looking.

Oh well. She liked walking around the island, anyhow. Despite the lurking thought in the back of her mind that reminded her of the distinct possibility of one of her friends murdering her whilst she was alone, she **enjoyed** her strolls around the tropical paradise. Barring the fact of how odd it truly sounded.

Once at Tanaka-san's door, Sonia took a breath to steady herself. Then, she brought up her hand, and knocked.

The _Ultimate Princess_ stood in silence in front of the door, hands folded in front of her, waiting patiently. After a full minute of no response, the corners of her mouth started to tug downwards.

Another minute went by, and Sonia was considering the fact of Tanaka-san not residing in his cabin, before the heavy door opened slightly.

"Ah, it is you, Miss," Tanaka-san answered, after pulling down a surgical mask that had previously covered his mouth.

Sonia furrowed her brow at the sight. The implications of him wearing a surgical mask were not healthy.

"Are you…sick, Tanaka-san?" Sonia asked hesitantly. She twitched when Gundam gave a booming laugh.

"Fuahahaha! Gundam Tanaka does not get 'sick'!" Tanaka-san exclaimed. "Such mortal ailments are beneath the Ascended Ruler of Ice."

Well, that was promising.

"Then why, pray tell, do you have a surgical mask on your face, Tanaka-san?" Sonia asked quizzically. "Is it for one of your hella-cool magic ceremonies?"

At the thought of seeing him perform spectacular feats of magic—a reaction that most mortals should hold, Gundam righteously believed—the Princess's facial expressions brightened. Stars seemed to shine in her eyes, and her dainty hands joined together, almost nearing that of prayer.

He was flattered.

He raised his scarf up to cover part of his heated face, looking away from the girl in front of him. He noted that the wood grain pattern upon his doorframe was very interesting indeed.

"No…I am afraid not, Miss," he mumbled into his scarf, feeling his usual boisterousness leave his being. "It is for another task—one not dealing with the magical or dark arts."

"Oh? Then what is it for?" she asked curiously, her head tilted quizzically. It reminded him very much of his Dark Gods, actually—in those times whenever he made a query, and they did not understand.

The thought of his precious Dark Gods sent a small pinprick of worry within his chest.

They were the reason he was wearing this atrocious plastic mask, after all.

"It…I believe it will be easier to show you, Miss Sonia," Gundam told her, looking down at the shorter blonde.

He had tried to control his voice, however, it seemed as some of his worry was injected into his words or posture. The Princess looked up at him, her expression concerned.

Before he could become rooted to the spot, or let the blonde girl ask more questions, he spun on his boot-clad feet to further envelop himself in his abode. It would not do to lose himself in her eyes—those which were like that of precious crystals—and forget about his current predicament.

He heard the door close, which he presumed was Miss Sonia closing it politely. Soon, he felt her presence nearing him, the sound of her steps coming closer.

Sonia walked into the room cautiously. This was unlike Tanaka-san, and it made her slightly uneasy. As she neared, she saw that he was crouched down.

It looked like something was in his hands. Slowly, she bent down, looking over his shoulder.

"You see…One of the Dark Gods has gotten sick," Tanaka-san murmured. "I have been busy with caring for him, as well as accommodating my other Dark Gods with another space to call their home, temporarily."

The small form of a hamster was cradled carefully in his hands. The hamster had light-brown fur, with a crème-colored belly, as well as sporting a tear in one of its ears.

Sonia looked around the room—and found the other three hamsters inside a cage, in the opposite corner of the room.

"I see…That is why you are wearing that surgical mask," Sonia said softly, as she turned back to watch Tanaka-san's careful movements with the small rodent.

In these moments, it truly hit Sonia how much Tanaka-san cared for his pets.

"…Yes. I had to separate Maga-G from the others," he said, as he rubbed the hamster's fur with a dry, thick-looking cloth. "For you see, disease can spread rapidly, especially amongst rodents. It could even affect the owner, if it is particularly strong."

"The disease can spread to the environment, as well. The Dark God's previous abode of their resting cage in my room is now dangerous—I have to disinfect it," Tanaka-san went on, as he then fed the hamster small pieces of bread dipped in an odd-smelling liquid. "I have had to garner a replacement cage for them to dwell in, temporarily."

"Their main cage, as well as the items inside—including the water supplementary contraption, the wheel, the food dish, and the bedding—must be cleaned and sanitary, or completely replaced," he went on.

He was in his element, despite how serious the issue was. Gundam Tanaka, after all, was not admitted into _Hope's Peak Academy_ for nothing. He knew various ways to care for animals of all types; it would be utterly embarrassing if he did not know how to care for his most precious of companions, his Dark Gods.

The room was silent, barring Maga-G's sniffles, and the other Dark Gods' chatterings.

"But…Tanaka-san…Don't your Dark Gods reside often times inside your muffler?" Sonia asked, intrigued at the lesson she was receiving for rodent pet care from the usually brusque boy.

"Ah…Yes," Tanaka-san admitted slowly, pausing in brushing Maga-G's fur with a very tiny, fuzzy brush. "I will have to…Wash it, as well."

He looked uncomfortable at the mention of his scarf parting his body, and Sonia had to place a hand on her mouth to muffle her giggles. That scarf was almost attached to the boy—it never seemed to leave him. Why, even when he was in a swimsuit, he kept the scarf on.

It was another thing that made him so attractive.

Gundam felt his face flush once more at the sound of Miss Sonia's muffled giggles. He must have sounded as uncomfortable as he felt, when he voiced aloud the possibility that he had not wanted to consider properly before.

That he had to take off his scarf.

For a few **hours**, even, until it was properly laundered, and clean once more.

He had honestly put that at the back of his mind, hoping that it would not come up yet. His scarf was very precious to him, if only because it was where his Dark Gods resided.

"Ah, Tanaka-san…I was wondering, with your lesson of hamster care when they are ailed…" Sonia paused, hoping that her question would not be offensive in any way to Tanaka-san. "What disease does Mister Maga-G have?"

She was honestly hoping that it was not something serious. However, how would **she** know? She knew nothing of hamsters, much less illnesses that ailed them.

"He has," Gundam started, pausing dramatically. Miss Sonia seemed to be waiting his answer with baited breath. The disease itself was a nuisance to anyone who cared for pets, much less very small mammals, who's conditions were much more fragile and precarious than other cases.

"The **sniffles**," he stated darkly.

There was silence for a full ten seconds, before Miss Sonia reacted.

"The…_snifferus_?" Miss Sonia asked with a strained voice.

At first, Gundam believed that he had impressed, awed, or scared her with what he proclaimed.

After all, she was a foreigner. Perhaps the way he had said the condition so darkly made an impact on her, and she thought that the ridiculous baby name he used for his Dark God's condition was nothing to be trifled with.

But then he shot a look behind his shoulder, back at her, and saw that that was **certainly** not the case.

The blonde girl was making odd noises, and her face was contorted. She had an odd smile that wavered and twitched.

Sonia was trying her best not to laugh, she really was. But after Tanaka-san looked directly at her with that look on his face—one that tried to appear grand and dramatic, over what he'd spoken—she couldn't help herself.

It started with muffled noises, but then quickly evolved into giggles, and then finally laughter.

"The **_sniffles_**," she wheezed, whilst clutching her stomach. Saying the completely ridiculous term once more made her go back into peals of laughter.

Gundam, meanwhile, was beet-red.

Dear lord, he made himself sound like a total dork and **loser** with what he'd said.

"_Really, Tanaka? The __**sniffles**_?" he berated himself in his mind. "**_That_**_ was the best term you could think of, in lieu of simply saying that Maga-G had the common cold?_"

It was something that wasn't embarrassing when he used it on his Dark Gods. After all— when he checked on Maga-G, and seen that the little guy had the symptoms of a cold— he didn't think twice when he said it to the hamster.

"_Oh, Maga-G—do you have the sniffles_?" he had cooed at the tiny ball of fur in his hands, just this morning. The little hamster had a runny nose, and had been sneezing and sniffling. So naturally, Gundam had called it 'the sniffles', which was a habit from when he was younger.

Sonia tried her best to keep herself under control. After a bit, only a giggle or two would escape her lips.

"So, ah" _giggle_ "Tanaka-san…" _giggle giggle_ "What are the symptoms of—" she went into a small peal of giggles, which she quickly tried to restrain, "this disease?"

Tanaka-san was red as a fire engine, and had his scarf hiked up so only his eyes would peak through. Sonia felt guilty that she had made him uncomfortable, but it was just so odd—oddly **adorable**, and humorous—to have heard him say such an endearingly **cute** term.

Her inquiry had him back in his element, and the color lowered, until only a rosy tint to his face remained.

"Yes, the symptoms…" Tanaka-san started, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Runny nose, irritability, watery eyes, sneezing, sniffling," here he paused, giving an embarrassed cough into his hand, then continued. "Lack of activity and fatigue, from the rodent, as well as matted or un-groomed fur."

"So essentially…A cool?" Miss Sonia asked, fumbling with the term.

"A cold," Gundam corrected automatically. "And yes—however, the common cold can be very dangerous for small mammals, especially left unchecked."

"Does it?" Miss Sonia asked curiously, her brow furrowing. "I have had colds before, but the Novoselic Castle's private doctors have always rushed to cure me of them. I have never had a cold that has gone unchecked."

Yes, he could image that. A Princess is a very important person for a country—especially if that Princess is young, sheltered, and adored by all.

"Yes. There is no definite cure for the common cold, after all—simply different ways to tame it," Gundam explained. "And if left unchecked for long enough, a cold can develop into pneumonia, or even bronchitis. That applies to **all** mammals, but especially to a small a species as the rodent."

"I see. So you are taking every precaution necessary to ensure that Maga-G will get well," Miss Sonia noted, looking thoughtful.

"Of course. I am Gundam Tanaka—Ascended Ruler of Ice, and Ultimate Breeder, after all," Gundam stated, his confidence and bravado finally coming back full stop into his body.

Miss Sonia would somehow manage to make him feel flustered, awkward, or oddly helpless. More often than not, he felt the words stop flowing, or his power and confidence leaving him, or any number of odd things happening to him.

It was good to have his confidence back—flowing strongly through his veins. If only for a short time, whilst still in the Princesses' presence.

"Yes…If I may ask, Tanaka-san…" she started once more, "Why…_Sniffles_?"

He felt his confidence flow back out of his veins. The time it was with him was very short, as expected.

"Erm…" he mumbled, trying to throw together an explanation. He looked intently down at the bundle of fur in his hands, to try to hide his pinkening face, and to not look at her when he admitted his reason. "My mother would use the term, w-when I was young. It…stuck."

He felt his face heat up more as he heard Miss Sonia's melodic giggle. The sound was pleasant, but also caused his stomach to knot and do multiple back flips, as if it was an enthusiastic canine doing tricks for its owner.

"That's very…nice," Sonia said lamely. She, once more, tried to mask her giggles behind her dainty hand.

She had wanted to say _cute_—and many other synonyms of it—but she felt that it would traumatize the poor boy more. It wouldn't do if Tanaka-san avoided her in mortification, if she pulled that stunt.

But—Suddenly, at that moment, she had a brilliant idea! One that would help abate the awkwardness of the babying term that Tanaka-san had used earlier.

She should recount an embarrassing term and story of back home!

"My own mother would say something embarrassing as well. A term that I also use, even to this day," Sonia started. She saw the breeder perk up, and he shot a side-glance at her, his face still pink.

"And that may be…?" he asked curiously, and Sonia mentally cheered with the apparent success of her plan.

"It is a certain style of dress that I wear," she explained. "It has many thin layers of fabric and tull. That particular style of dress is what I call…a _swishy_."

Tanaka-san simply blinked at her. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Then he began chuckling.

"A…_suwishy_?" he asked, voice rumbling from his laughter.

"Yes. When I was very young, my mother would co-erce me to wear those types of dresses, by calling them _swishies_. I would not like to, because they felt very itchy."

"_Swishies_?" he asked once more, half-laughing. He seemed to be restraining himself from laughing more at her, so she considered the exchange of embarrassing trivialities from their childhood a success.

She noted that his laughter wasn't like his usual, over-the-top booming laughter.

No, Tanaka-san's laughter was not a booming '_Fuahahaha_!'. Rather, it seemed more…genuine. More natural.

Sonia liked this rare laughter of Tanaka-san's **very** much.

"Yes. And despite how babying the term is, I still use it," Sonia stated, smiling brightly at the breeder.

"I see," he noted, chuckling softly. "Then that term is a fine one indeed—one as grand as the poetic words of Shakespeare himself."

She found that particularly ironic, as Shakespeare had actually created many words in his works. She had to hide an ironic grin, at the fitting metaphor that Tanaka-san used.

"And yours is one as strong and wonderful as the words of the Romans," Sonia said, nodding her head with finality. Romans fit him—and nothing less would suffice.

Gundam chuckled once more. The Princess really did have a way with words. She always made something seem concrete and one hundred percent true.

"Miss Sonia, would you like to help me in my endeavor to uphold my Dark God's peak health?" he asked her, feeling like he could trust her with something of this caliber.

After all, it's possible that she could combat the mighty sniffles with her swishies.

The blonde gave such a kind, heartwarming smile, that he felt his heart skip a beat.

"I would love to help you and your Dark Gods, Tanaka-san," she stated, the sincerity clear in her voice.

In his hands, Maga-G gave one of his sniffles. In his chest, he felt his heart give a swishy.


	11. Confusion, Protection, and Hope?

**AN**: I can't believe that all the requests I've gotten are for pairs I ship. There's a god after all, and his name is Makoto Naegi.

Also, hello, I am trash. _This chapter is literally the longest one of any of my DR fics to date (at 5200+ words)_, and it's pretty much two-chaps-in-one, because 1) I like analyzing characters/relationships/motives and 2) I want cute misadventures with my otps. Whoops.

* * *

REQUESTED (by D on AO3)

Mukuro Ikusaba x Makoto Naegi

(Naekuro, Naegiku, Makomuku, IF OTP)

Confusion, Protection, and Hope?

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Mukuro Ikusaba_ didn't know what was wrong with her.

Of course, being ignorant on such matters could be accounted for the fact that for years, she'd isolated herself from the normal world. She'd stayed in a mercenary group ever since she was young, having slipped away on a trip to Europe with her family.

She didn't know how to be _normal_. She didn't know how to act or to feel, to be compliant with societies' demands.

She didn't know how to interact with civilians, or how to stay with them, or how to blend in with them.

She didn't even know how to be in a foreign environment, surrounded by people—people that could kill her, if she let her guard down too much.

Her twin sister—_Junko Enoshima_, famous model—would call her useless over her pathetic confusion.

_Why are you so useless, Mukuro-chan?_

_Why do you have to be so uncultured, Mukuro-chan?_

_Why don't you know how to be a normal person, Mukuro-chan?_

But the fact of the matter was that Mukuro Ikusaba was having a hard time integrating herself back into society, as well as trying to sort out her own self.

She'd locked it all up, before. She was taught to do so, in the mercenary group—_Fenrir_, named after the mythological wolf. To lock emotion or attachments—because emotion can lead to recklessness, and recklessness can lead to your death—because only **fools** will let themselves get killed by such things.

So it should be no surprise that at some point, once she came back to normalcy in her homeland of Japan, she would be baffled, lost, and utterly confused by someone or something.

It should also be no surprise that such a thing would occur to her, at her time at _Hope's Peak Academy_, by one of her classmates.

It was only a matter of time, after all, before someone or something came along to completely change her own self or her outlook on life. It had happened with her young twin, then with the brave soldiers on television, then with the army recruiting officer, then with her commanding officer in Fenrir, then with Junko once again.

And now, another person came onto that list. Another person, who had changed how she felt or acted or **was**.

Another incredibly unexpected person to shine light upon Mukuro Ikusaba's dim, monochrome world.

_Makoto Naegi_. That was her **new** world-changer.

The first person to give her a genuine smile when she was in Hope's Peak, despite how distant or intimidating she was.

The first person to make her stomach jolt and her heart flutter and a great need to protect and cherish.

The first person—who was not family or a respected comrade—that made her **care**.

It was all terribly confusing and embarrassing for her.

In Fenrir, she was taught **not** to care. In her normal life before, she learned to **only** care for her younger sister, and for her parents.

It didn't help that Junko noticed the odd '_click'_ that Mukuro felt with the perfectly normal boy. It didn't help that she teased the _Ultimate Soldier_ mercilessly because of it. It didn't help that Mukuro was sixteen, hormone-riddled, never had kissed a boy, never had a crush on a boy her age, and was emotionally-stunted and unsociable and literally didn't _fit in_.

Junko teased her about anything under the sun, but she enjoyed rubbing salt in her older sister's wounds when it came to issues that made dear beloved sister feel lost. The blonde-haired girl would tease Mukuro on liking someone so bland, on liking someone so passive, on **not** liking someone who fit her strict military person, on **not** liking someone who was outgoing, on liking the first boy who smiled at her like a stupid lovesick puppy, and so on.

Mukuro was just so **conflicted** on everything.

Why would Makoto Naegi ever like someone like **her**? Why would he be kind to an emotionless **killer**? Why would he like someone who was conditioned as a tool of **war**?

If one looked in a dictionary, they would find a picture of him under _normal_ or _average_.

He was an atypically average highschooler. Apart from his ahoge, he could blend in perfectly with any crowd. He chatted and liked the most atypical of things. He always talked about the most mundane of topics. Even his somewhat odd choice of wearing a school jacket over a hoodie in his free time was bogged down to how completely **average** he was.

Yet—even with all her doubts—all of these things just couldn't seem to stop Mukuro from **caring** about him.

All her doubts couldn't stop her from constantly stealing glances or staring at him in class.

All of her doubts couldn't stop her from constantly wanting to speak or interact with him.

All her doubts couldn't stop her from constantly looking out for him.

All of her doubts couldn't stop her from constantly thinking of him, or thinking the most positive things about him.

It all simply boiled down to one thing for her: _Mukuro Ikusaba didn't know what was wrong with her._

She would often curse herself and whatever forces led her to be some military-obsessed freak. If she wasn't—maybe, in another world, in an alternate universe, they would both just be average highschoolers that went to an average highschool and became normal friends.

But, since all of that was impossible to the nth degree, the soldier simply took it upon herself to make sure to always look after Makoto, to always save him from whatever hurt him—even if it was as mundane as a paper cut, or as serious as a murder attempt.

She divided her attention between naturally looking for threats, looking out for Junko—and now, she added looking out for Makoto Naegi to the short list of things she should put her attention towards.

This precious attention she gave him obviously showed to her little sister, who teased her even more cruelly and mercilessly about. It would also be obvious whenever her classmates decided to take pictures of the class—for memories, or whatever other reason they'd want to take countless photos of their school lives—because it would show in every single photo that she was looking out for Makoto and **only** looking at him.

But if she was obvious or not—well, no one ever brought it up, other than Junko-chan. And Makoto was certainly, blissfully, oblivious to it.

So perhaps hiding her emotions had its advantages after all, even if it crippled her from properly speaking or being close to the boy that garnered her attention and protection and care. Another wonderful plus, on top of Makoto's safety and Makoto's smile and Makoto's hope and Makoto's friendship.

And whenever her thoughts strayed to the positive, wonderful traits that Makoto held, it would make her stomach knot and her heart flutter time after time.

Still, she would berate herself in embarrassment. What if because she was caught up in her emotions, she wasn't able to protect him? He was overtly caring, overtly trusting, and surprisingly clumsy—and his normalcy wouldn't help him if he got caught up in the chaos that came from the surrounding talent and bad luck.

So, with that in mind…She'd allow herself to get closer to him. Maybe walk in the general location he was heading—not tailing or scouting or stalking, no, just happening to go the same way. That was normal, right? Not super creepy or weird, right?—or follow him with her eyes until she couldn't see him.

Maybe naturally learning where his favorite spots in the school were, and happening to be there. Maybe closely following him whenever he neared stairs, because he was clumsy enough to fall up or down them and hurt himself. Maybe asking him to help her study one subject or another.

Mukuro Ikusaba **still** didn't know what was wrong with her. She sounded almost as obsessed as _Touko Fukawa_ towards _Byakuya Togami_.

No, it **wasn't** obsession. Mukuro just…wanted to keep him safe. Nothing wrong with that. And if she wanted to do that, she had to be cautious and watch him, and sometimes worry after him like a mother hen who's scared for her chicks.

Most of the time, her worrying paid off. Makoto, despite having gotten into Hope's Peak as the _Ultimate Lucky Student_, often times had the most horrid of luck.

Unlucky things often happened to him.

_In class_? He'd often get paper cuts—which Mukuro was always quick enough to offer a bandage, or sometimes have the foresight to stop him from gripping a paper a certain way or passing his finger over an edge. Whenever he worked with chemicals in Chemistry, the bunson burner or the flask would usually break or blow up—which Mukuro would pull him back, shield him, or offer to help him clean up. Things often fell off his desk by accident—which Mukuro would help pick them and hand them back to him. He also had a tendency of dropping his things or spilling his bag—which Mukuro would help catch or gather for him.

_Outside class, while dealing with classmates_? He was a peacemaker as well, so he often stupidly got in the middle of fights—which Mukuro would have to pull him back or block a wayward blow from knocking out the tiny boy. He would even chance with talking to the most scathing or hostile of the class—which Mukuro would just have to keep back and watch as the boy wilted with any verbal blows, then step in and save him the trouble of ending the conversation, if they got too bad.

_Out and about in his normal business_? Whenever he ran, one of his shoes—the right one. She remembers this very clearly, as it's always the **same** **exact** **shoe**—would either get its laces untied, or would fly off his foot completely. He was prone to tripping or falling at the most oddly unlucky of places or intervals. In these times, Mukuro would help catch him, retrieve his shoe, or checking to see if he'd injured himself.

Plus, he was definitely clumsy enough to fall up or down the stairs, as she noted. He often tripped up them whenever he was rushing to class, but those were just small scares.

No, the worst times where whenever he tripped **down** the stairs, because those times where the most terrifying, apart from whenever he got in the middle of violent fights.

A civilian could easily crack their neck when falling down a flight of stairs. They're not trained to duck and roll and twist and protect themselves from a fall. They're frail and fragile when they fall from large heights.

Especially the epitome of clumsy civilian normalcy, Makoto Naegi.

Mukuro would close her eyes and let the terrifying memories wash over her, if only to make her stronger and more vigilant. To remind her that despite not being on a battlefield, she still had to fight and protect someone…

One of those memories happened to have been recent. Just yesterday…

* * *

Yesterday, things were normal.

Actually, normal was whenever Makoto's bad luck didn't make something happen to him. Perhaps 1 in 4—or 1 in 5…Maybe 1 in 6—chance, was when something would happen.

Yesterday, things were normal in terms of Makoto's unlucky nature.

He'd woken up very late for breakfast—Mukuro had stayed, even at the threat of arriving late to class, conspicuously waiting for him to arrive to the Cafeteria—and inhaled a quick breakfast of eggs with toast. He then rushed to class, hoping to not be late, a piece of toast in his small mouth.

The soldier had followed him to class with quick, even strides, when the boy's shoe—the right shoe. **Always** the right shoe—flew off his foot. Towards Mukuro; which she managed to pluck out of the air with no complications.

The short boy looked down in surprise as his sock-clad foot hit the tile, then looked around frantically for his sneaker, muttering a loud 'Not **again'**, the piece of toast in his hand. She stepped forward to hand it back to him, and he thanked her for catching it for him once again, giving a self-deprecating laugh.

He shoved the toast back in his mouth, then proceeding to hop on one foot whilst trying to quickly shove his shoe back in place. He almost overbalanced himself, but Mukuro caught his shoulder to steady him. He gave an embarrassed, mumbled 'thanks' around his toast.

The late bell then promptly rang, and Makoto made a noise that was half a groan of disappointment and half a whine of displeasure.

"I guess we're both late then, huh, Ikusaba-san?" he told her awkwardly, having just swallowed his toast. He scratched the back of his head, giving a sheepish smile at her.

"I suppose so," Mukuro noted, not caring for being late. She was glad that Makoto didn't hurt himself in some way—like choke on his toast.

She was only ever late whenever she looked out for Junko or Makoto anyways. Even then, she was rarely late to class.

"Oh man… Ishimaru-san's gonna give us a lecture over tardiness, though," Makoto commented worriedly as they both quickly walked the rest of the way to class.

"Our records are mostly spotless. It will be fine," Mukuro told him, trying to be comforting, but most likely sounding cold and emotionless. It caused him to grin gratefully up at her, however, so she considered the comment a success.

As expected, Ishimaru jumped out of his seat whenever he saw the pair enter the classroom late together. Makoto gave a sheepish apology towards the loud boy, and Mukuro only quietly made a comment of helping a classmate, before promptly making her way towards her desk.

Classes were going by without much trouble. Then P.E. class came along—pitting the class to playing a game of basketball. Mukuro essentially shielded Makoto from getting hurt too badly, despite being on opposite teams.

After the third time of Mukuro shielding Makoto from a very sharp jab to the gut, Mondo started yelling at her to stop helping the other team. To abate the biker's anger, as well as keeping Makoto away from any unfriendly crossfire, Mukuro simply took it upon herself to land as many baskets as possible from either half court or the completely other side of the court.

Mukuro managed to win the game for her team—which made Junko whoop and wrap an arm around her twin. Mondo also gruffly apologized for yelling at her, seeing as how she helped them win.

When Makoto came up to her and shyly asked her why she kept shielding him, her mind was in overdrive.

"You got the ball often, so it happened to look like I kept shielding you," she lied lamely, despite the fact that most of the time, he was only **open** to getting the ball. "You were also in the places where I liked taking shots."

Makoto thanked her anyways, even if she didn't happen to protect him from the roughness of the game on purpose. When he was heading to get changed, he got hit in the gut by the ball by Hagakure, who was shooting some extra hoops.

Mukuro cursed herself for not accounting on the ball still being **out** and being used by someone, even after the game ended. Makoto only waved off Hiro's languid apologies.

Then lunch came. Makoto managed to drop his tray on the Cafeteria floor. His friends at his table made sure he got some food, but when he left the room, Mukuro offered him a melon bread.

"I had an extra one," she lied. She'd actually saved it from her own lunch. Melon bread was a very basic, plain, and common bread from Japan. Mukuro always got one, as it gave her an odd sense of comfort to eat it.

"Ah…Thanks, Ikusaba-san," Makoto said gratefully, as he grabbed the offered packaged bread. She'd seen how he got rolls and bits of food and junk snacks from his friends—but that wasn't a proper lunch, much less for a teenage boy. And bread was filling, at least, so that should help him a bit.

"It's no problem," she told him. "You seem to be having an unlucky day."

He chuckled self-deprecating, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, sometimes I wonder why my title isn't _Ultimate __**Un**__lucky Student_," he noted, then promptly opened the package and gave a big bite into the bread.

Mukuro simply gave a nod, not trusting herself with making a normal comment or gesture—Was she supposed to chuckle with him? Agree or disagree with his statement? Start another subject? Honestly, Junko was always the one to talk to the others and be a social butterfly—and walked back to class. She noted, a bit happily, that he walked alongside her, eating the bread she gave him.

The final classes of the day passed. Mukuro kept her gaze firmly on the back of Makoto for the entirety of the subjects, not trusting his horrid luck from making something worse happen.

Nothing happened—his textbook didn't fall on his foot, he didn't trip when he stood up from his desk, his pen didn't explode whilst he was writing—and the bell rang.

Mukuro gathered her things quickly, and waited in her seat, watching as Makoto talked freely with his classmates. When he looked ready to leave class, Mukuro casually walked out the door behind him. She had noted—whilst **happening** to go in the same direction as him—that he had been talking to Maizono and Kuwata about needing to study for the upcoming Algebra test.

So he was either going to his room, or to the library. They were currently on the second floor—the Library would be closer. However, Makoto seemed to like heading to his room before he decided to go anywhere, like a creature of habit.

Mukuro's footsteps were silent as she followed Makoto down the hall—past the Library, towards the stairs. With a feeling of dread in her stomach—like a premonition of despair—Mukuro watched as Makoto neared the first step.

Then he tripped. He hadn't even stepped a **foot** on any step on the stairs, but he tripped **right** at the very top of the flight.

Mukuro felt her stomach drop, and her heart jolt to her throat.

With speed that was honed in Fenrir—speed that was used to escape from bullets or grenades, speed that was used to slaughter hundreds of men—Mukuro dove forwards.

Makoto flailed, his balance lost. He saw the dooming staircase in his eyes, saw how he was going to tumble down all those steps and probably snap a bone, or his **neck**.

But in that moment, an hand yanked on him—on his arm, which was stretched out to clutch on **anything** to help him from painfully falling down a long flight of stairs—and a pain sprouted on his shoulder from where he was yanked. However, that pain only bloomed for a split second.

The next thing he knew, an arm was wrapped around his midsection, and he was being hauled backwards, away from the menacing stairs. He felt a body pressed tightly behind him—an oddly **curvy** body.

And after that heart-pounding few seconds, the ahoge-haired boy realized who saved him.

His wide, terrified gaze looked up and behind him, to see none other than Mukuro Ikusaba looming over him.

Mukuro had thankfully gotten to him in time, the adrenaline and inhuman speed of hers letting her rush forwards and grab onto him. She'd quickly wrapped her other arm around his midsection—poised, her toes barely on the top step, at such an extreme angle forwards that if she hadn't had the reflexes or muscle conditioning that she had, then she would've toppled over as well—and wretched him backwards.

She took a few more steps backwards from the steps, just in case. She was able to easily haul the shorter boy, who felt incredibly light because of the energy coursing through her body.

Her body was wrapped tightly around his, and her breathing was a bit heavy—a mixture of fear, adrenaline, physical exertion, and just a flicker of despair.

She'd been terrified.

Makoto had never tripped at the top of a flight of stairs before. The only times he'd managed to trip down the stairs, it was always on the last few steps—where he would just stumble, and grab onto the railing quickly. Sometimes he'd just end on one knee awkwardly at the bottom of the flight, his things spread across the floor.

Those times, her heart would skip a beat; but everything would turn out okay. A small tumble, dropping his things—it was fine.

No, but this had been far worse. **Far** more despairing.

"I-Ikusaba-san?" Makoto asked breathlessly, his voice squeaking. His heart was pounding too quickly in his chest—from fear, obviously.

Nope, **not** because a girl was pressed flush against his back, and he could feel how soft her boo—how **she** was.

Nope, nope, nope. Definitely fear. Fear was the priority here. Fear was what coursed through him. Fear, not embarrassing things.

Fear is what made him feel hot, too. Just a good ol' terrifying near-death experience to make you feel like you're about to burst into flames, right? Ahaha…

Mukuro felt the boy stiffen in her awkward kind-of-but-not-really embrace. His head was turned back towards her, despite how close their bodies were—and he was red in the face.

Oh.

**…Oh**.

Now that the adrenaline was bleeding out of her system, the soldier noted how…Awkward a position they were both in.

She'd wrapped her body tightly around his, to make sure her grip on his arm had not hurt him, or slipped. And, as an extra protective measure as well. She'd been precariously perched when catching him—so in case she fell whilst trying to grab onto him, she could use the tight hold on him to twist around and use her body to cushion his fall.

In complete embarrassment now, Mukuro quickly unwrapped her arms around his midsection, and practically wrenched herself from Makoto's body.

Sadly, she felt colder now—Makoto's body was warm and soft. Not to mention that his body was smaller than hers, and she found it really nice to wrap her taller frame around his—

Nope, nope, nope. Just colder from simple body heat.

She felt colder, but at the same time felt warmer. Embarrassment from **his** embarrassment—because she was emotionally stunted and abnormal, so **he** would be the one who knew how to react and what was normal, right?

She wasn't warm in mortification because she was thinking of their bodies wrapped together. Nope. Not at all. Just awkwardness from not understanding emotions and situations and such.

That was it. That **had** to be it.

'_Well, this is awkward_,' the two teens thought in unison. They simply stood nervously in front of one another, the silence heavy and awkward enough that you could cut it with knife.

Makoto coughed into his hand, then tried clearing his very dry throat. "Um…Er…Th-Thanks, I-Ikusaba-san…" he mumbled, looking at a point over her shoulder, afraid of making eye contact with the girl.

There was a pregnant pause, before Mukuro pushed herself to say something, **anything**, to make this situation less mortifying.

"Ah…I-It was no problem, M—"she stopped herself from saying his first name, as it was how she thought of him in her mind, which was inappropriate to do in-person. "Naegi-kun."

The two just stood there, Makoto scratching the back of his head, and Mukuro absentmindedly fiddling with her bag's strap. The silence became thick, once more.

"Um—I-I really do appreciate it, you know," Makoto spoke up again, tentatively. After steeling his reserve, he looked up and squarely made eye contact with the usually emotionless girl. "For saving me. I-I thought I was going to fall and break my neck, but you..."

Once their eyes had met, Mukuro lost herself in those kind, soft eyes of his. They say eyes were the windows of the soul—a saying that Mukuro found true, as either twitching or someone's eyes gave away an enemies' intentions on the battlefield—and Makoto was currently embodying that statement.

Sincerity. Relief. Thankful. Grateful. Lingering fear, from his fearful experience.

And…Kindness. Hope. Camaraderie—or perhaps, what's considered friendship? There was even fondness.

His eyes spoke more volumes than his grateful thanks—and even his thanks was like honey to her soul, so his eyes were like the sweetest of chocolates.

Mukuro Ikusaba didn't know what was wrong with her. She was daydreaming about him right in his face—and she felt her heart flutter once more, because of him.

"My body acted on instinct," Ikusaba-san finally answered him, and Makoto let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"And…I didn't want to see you get hurt," she added, more quietly.

This surprised both teens. To Makoto, that she actually cared for him so much. To Mukuro, that she actually said that **aloud** to him.

Mukuro started to frantically berate herself in her mind for letting such an important thing slip.

But at that moment, Makoto seemed to glow.

"Thank you," he told her, completely heartfelt. He gave her one of his soft, wonderful smiles—the ones that were so hopeful, so pure, so sincere, so **true**—a smile akin to the one he gave her that fateful first day.

A smile like the first smile she received in her new life at Hope's Peak Academy.

The smile that made him one of her world-changers, and one of the people she swore to protect.

"Ah…" Makoto trailed off, after giving this thanks, and seeing Ikusaba-san soften considerably.

"Is it okay…If I call you Mukuro now?" he asked slowly, tentatively. He didn't want to rush her— but she really did look out for him quite a bit, and she felt like a close friend to him.

She blinked, her eyes wide, a look of shock on her face. He found it cute—it was rare to see such an expression on the soldier's face.

But then she nodded, her face morphing back to something more neutral. However, it seemed…softer, than her usual blank-slate expression.

"If…I can call you Makoto," Mukuro told him, having gotten over the shock of him wanting to be on first-name basis with her.

After all…_Why would Makoto Naegi ever like someone like __**her**__? Why would he be kind to an emotionless __**killer**__? Why would he like someone who was conditioned as a tool of __**war**__?_

However, Mukuro batted those thoughts away. He'd asked her—a sign that he **really** wanted to be close to her. A sign that he didn't care about how she was.

It's all Mukuro could have ever dreamed of.

Makoto blinked, tilting his head slightly, akin to a wide-eyed puppy. A blush was on his cheeks, and she knew that a light one was most likely on hers as well.

"Ah—Well, I guess that's only fair, right?" Makoto said slowly, a small smile on his face, as he gave an awkward laugh.

"Right," she repeated back at him.

He nodded his head. "Right," he started, his voice determined. "…Mukuro-san."

The name hung in the air for a bit, whilst the duo took in how it sounded.

They both decided that they liked it.

Mukuro tried to think of what to say next. She had to find a normal comment, and implement saying Makoto's name, right?

She mulled it over, before saying something. "Be careful next time…Makoto-san," she said slowly, feeling the nerves leave her after finally saying it aloud.

Once again, the name hung in the air; once again, the duo decided that they liked how it sounded.

They grinned at one another—Makoto's being much brighter and larger and more hopeful, of course— the silence between them comfortable.

But then, the silence was broken—by an odd laughter and cooing noises.

"_Upupu_..._Puhuhu_…So cuuuute!" came a dreadfully familiar voice, not that far away from the duo.

Mukuro felt her stomach drop to her toes. Makoto felt an odd dread welling in his gut.

As one, they turned to look at an incredibly amused Junko—both blushing at having been caught having a, well, '_intimate'_ moment.

"Good job big sis—you managed to trip an event flag! Now you've managed to progress down the Makoto Route," Junko said cheekily, grin widening at making them both look awkward as hell.

"Now kiddies—I'm going to have to **hope** that you don't do anything that you'd find in the R-18 section of this dating sim. _Upupupu_," Junko giggled, as the two gaped at her, faces an identical shade of tomato-red

Makoto stuttered and spluttered, and Mukuro squeaked a harried "**_Junko_**", whilst the _Ultimate Fashionista_ burst into hysterical laughter.

"Oh, I wish I had a video camera for this!" Junko exclaimed with cute, childish glee. "Big sis Muku-chan's finally gwowing up! Yatta!"

"However—I suppose telling Sayaka-chan and Leon will suffice," she decreed, sounding queenly. "It shall spread like wildfire, and I am **sure** that many a classmate will be there to congratulate you on your leveling-up in name-basis status, hmmmm?"

The duo were rooted on the spot, and could only watch Junko charge down the stairs, yelling "GUESS WHO I GOT DIRT ON, MOTHERFUCKERS?!" on the top of her lungs, giving metal screams all the while. She was most likely heading to spill the beans on their situation to their classmates.

Mukuro and Makoto's faces drained of color once the blonde was out of sight, their faces resembling chalk.

…Mukuro Ikusaba didn't know what was wrong with her. She actually had felt happy and proud that her twin thought that her and Makoto were a couple.

Even though the feeling only lasted a few seconds.

Even though it was impossible, and Makoto would never think of her like that.

Even though her sister was teasing them, and was now going to screw them over by burying them sky-high in rumors.

Even though all she had wanted to do was to protect the first person who smiled genuinely at her…right?

"We should do some damage control," Mukuro told the shorter boy, her voice strained.

"Y-Yeah. Sounds like a plan," Makoto noted wearily, as the dread started to slowly leak out of his gut from having Mukuro besides him on this.

…They were together. Together, to face what came at them.

Mukuro Ikusaba and Makoto Naegi…

It had a nice ring to it.

* * *

As Mukuro thought back to just a few hours prior—in the very wee hours, just when the sun was rising—she found that everything was worth it.

The fear, the despair, the worry, the time, the energy, the attention, the teasing, the troubles…

Makoto was worth it.


	12. Tea

**AN**: I got a **huge** response for last chapter! Glad to know that naekusaba has such a surprisingly large fanbase. Bless DR IF.

A lot requested more naekusaba, but I have to sadly decline for now...I'm trying to get in as many pairings as possible in this collection, so it will be a while before the IF OTP is back.

However, it got me pumped— so here's a quick, very short chapter featuring our fighting maidens. Unless I get requests, next chapter's going to be posted soon, and is gonna feature Mr Headmaster Jin Kirigiri— because wow, he rarely gets any fanworks.

* * *

Peko Pekoyama x Sakura Ogami

(Pekogami, Sakupeko, Ogapeko, warrior maidens)

Tea

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

"Thank you very much for the tea, Ogami-san."

"It is no problem, Pekoyama-san."

_Peko Pekoyama_, the _Ultimate Swordswoman_, and _Sakura Ogami_, the _Ultimate Martial Artist_, were sitting together in front of _Hope's Peak Academy's_ Dojo.

Specifically, they were sitting in front of another, sitting on traditional tatami mats, and drinking traditional herbal tea.

They were both serene, strong warriors. It made sense to see them together, especially since they both practiced frequently in their family's Dojos.

Practicing their techniques is how they met in the school, actually. They were both practicing in different corners of the Dojo, lost in their training, before they finally noticed one another. They then introduced themselves properly, and decided to have a break and tea with one another.

"Is the school's Dojo usually frequented, Pekoyama-san?" Sakura asked after a long drag from her cup.

"Not as frequently as one would think, Ogami-san," Peko answered as she slowly lowered her cup to the floor. "It seems that the athletic fields are much more popular places for the more…well, **athletic** Ultimates, to practice in.

"Hm…I personally find Dojos to be more enjoyable places to practice in," Sakura noted.

"As do I," Peko added serenely. "Other than the fact that Dojos have all the equipment my particular title would ever want or need, it is…The atmosphere that is more overall pleasant."

"Yes, the energy in the air in such sacred places are better suited for the Warrior types," Sakura agreed, nodding her head, before she posed another question to her senior classmate.

"Do you like other drinks other than tea, Pekoyama-san? Perhaps something with protein…?"

"Ah…As a matter of fact, Ogami-san…"

This was the certainly the start of a steady friendship, built on respect for one another's values, commitment, spirit, likes, personalities, and fighting style.


	13. Unexpected Rambling Recommendation

**AN**: I couldn't wait to post this, so...Here it is! A chapter featuring our deceased Mr Hot Dad Headmaster: _Jin Kirigiri_! He rarely gets any fanworks, because we know so little about him. Poor guy.

Oh, and also featuring Junko, because Junko is terribly fun to write. And here, she rambles on like in DR 0.

* * *

Junko Enoshima x Jin Kirigiri

(Junkojin, Jinoshima)

Unexpected Rambling Recommendation

(_pre-Hope's Peak_)

* * *

_Jin Kirigiri_ was a very busy man.

He was the _Headmaster_ for the prestigious school _Hope's Peak Academy_, which had a long history of producing the best youths to go into the workforce.

He worked his damn hardest to raise the school higher, and produce even more stunning young adults. Not to mention, he genuinely cared—for the students, the school, the country— to fill in the void in his life that only the feeling of accomplishment of leading this school could bring. He worked day and night, put more time and effort into the school than he probably did his own life.

And despite it all, he was currently baffled. Baffled at the situation he was in, and why it was being so **time consuming**, when he had a prestigious academy to run and mountains of paperwork to fill and students to look after.

The situation was that he, one of the busiest men in the city, was currently listening to a long-winded string of babble from an almost equally busy teen girl.

To but it bluntly, Jin Kirigiri was currently sitting at his desk, surrounded by memos and paperwork, to listen to _Junko Enoshima_ talk about literally anything and everything.

Which shouldn't be undergoing for various reasons.

One: He was a busy man—which many people knew. This tended very few from bothering him unless it was very important, and he had his secretary be the one to ward off any lesser important people from his office.

Two: She was a busy teen model. She had a daily photo shoot and daily magazine coverage being shipped and in stores across the nation. Hell, he'd even expect she had multiple shoots a day, not to mention multiple magazines with her face and body plastered over them.

Three: Visitors who didn't attend the school were a bit rare, as they had to go through a lengthy procedure before being considered eligible to enter the school's grounds.

Four: The security for the Administrator's Building was very tight, in order to keep everything from pesky reporters to insane shooters from getting to any important staff or administrators in the building.

Five: The door to the Headmaster's Office held a tricky double-locking mechanism that would make it hard for anyone to be able to barge into the room unless it was open from his side—which it wasn't, at the time Miss Enoshima barged in—or he unlocked it himself—which he didn't do, either.

Six: There was no possible reason for her to personally come and speak with him, seeing as she accepted to being admitted into Hope's Peak VIA mail.

Seven: It was going to be midnight in a half hour. Who even **thinks** of visiting someone at that hour, much less a Headmaster who has to sort through paperwork for the start of the next school year?

Eight: It's inappropriate for a student to be seen with their professors or staff at such a late hour in their personal office, unless it was a dire emergency. Which it obviously wasn't.

Nine: The last that he heard, she was in a completely different region of Japan, before she barged in his office.

Ten: The last thing he needed for the night was a teenage girl talking relentlessly and giving him a migraine. Seriously, his mind was swirling just from how quickly she changed subjects, not to mention the slightly different tones of voices she would adopt with certain topics.

"Ugh, Muku-chan is just soooo stupid, ya know? I always knew she'd be the failure of the family. I mean, with those terrible nails, who **wouldn't** be? She should get nails like mine—Red. Red's a good color, isn't it?"

Before he could even think of opening his mouth to answer, she rambled on.

"There's **so** many great things out there that are red. Blood, apples, hearts, fire, Prada bags, hot heels, despair, clawmarks, sports cars, my new bathing suit that's **totally** H-O-T HOT—and, like, my new line of accessories are red too. I bet the color would remind her of her glorious little golden days playing soldier in Europe. You heard the news coverage about that, didn't you? About my dear sister never being kidnapped, just disappearing to go off and become a pillaging savage and scaring her poor, dear family?"

The pigtailed girl pauses, looking inquisitively at the middle-aged man sitting behind the large mahogany desk.

He actually manages to understand her trail of conversation, wraps his head around the girl's rehashing, remembers that yes—it was a story that got quite a bit of news coverage, because it had created a large scandal and panic whenever little Mukuro disappeared during her family's trip in Europe a few years back. He uses all the power of deduction and reasoning that he possessed as a Kirigiri, and managed to latch onto the trail and input himself in Enoshima's previously one-sided ranting.

"Of course. Her disappearance caused such a large stir, that her return to Japan caused a whirlwind of news to surround her."

"It did, didn't it? Well then, you must've heard through the rumor mill that my dear older sissie learned aaaaall about becoming a big bad soldier during her escapades, huh?" she asks in a childish way, eyes shining with something equally chilling and mesmerizing.

"Something to that effect," Jin said, clasping his hands on his desk and leaning forwards. "Miss Enoshima, I have a feeling that you have a goal, in coming to…_speak_ with me so suddenly. Now that this has transitioned over to your twin sister…"

"That my goal's got to do with my twin?" Junko asks, smirking. "Why yes, yes it does, Mister Kirigiri-san-sama-sensei-professor-doctor-Headmaster-sir! It does **indeed** have to deal with my mercenary soldier of an older sister, _Mukuro Ikusaba_!"

"Shouldn't it be Mukuro Enoshima?" Jin asked, the only thing he could manage to say in his confusion, mind reeling.

"Oh man, that's a whole **entirely** different story. And you wouldn't **believe** how many people ask that," Junko said dramatically, rolling her eyes. "It's a long fucking story and it's boring as hell. But ANYWAYS—"

Jin started as Junko jumped up on the chair across his desk. He had to quickly tear his gaze up at her face and away from legs— which had dominated his vision when she had suddenly decided to be dramatic, and find a pedestal to stand on.

"My athletic older sister has done something super duper ultra incredible! Something only an ultimate high schooler could ever accomplish! And that is…To be an _Ultimate Soldier_!" Junko said proudly.

Jin simply stared blankly up at her. Embarrassingly enough, he was gaping.

"Ex…cuse me? Could you, ah, elaborate on that, Miss Enoshima?" Jin asked, his voice strained.

"Oh…! Well, if you insist!" Junko chirped, and promptly jumped down from her previous position. All the while, Jin wondered if he should make the uniform policy stricter, as mini-skirts as Enoshima's are dangerous with any passing breeze or sudden, spectacular movement.

"My sister became a soldier while with the European mercenary group, Fenrir! As you probably know, since this group is mostly known through top-secret files only important men can view, one soldier from their ranks can be worth hundreds of regular ones!" Jin nodded slowly.

"Well, get this? She was their youngest and BEST soldier! Three full years in their ranks, and not a scar on her!" Junko said grandly, pride seemingly emanating from every pore.

"That…truly is impressive…" Jin noted, the gears in his head turning.

"So, I'm here today, tonight, to saaaaay…That you should admit her into Hope's Peak! Such **talent** shouldn't be wasted to just walk among the masses of sheep at a boring, average high school. **Right**?" Junko insisted with a sharp-toothed grin.

This was all a bit too much to take in. Honestly, he would of preferred that there hadn't been any dramatic theatrics involved. His head hurt in multiple ways.

However, he had to look like he had **some** semblance of control of the situation. Also, he needed to process what he would say next.

"Hm…While that may be true, Miss Enoshima…" Jin hesitated, wondering if he should really go on with saying what he wanted in a blunt manner.

"Yeeeees, Headmaster?" she asked, almost teasingly.

The man in question wearily rubbed at his temples with one hand. "Why, pray tell, did you decide to do this near **midnight? In person**? I hope you realize that we have a committee that scouts and invites the new hopeful freshmen…?"

"The one that sent me the letter?" she asked lightly.

"Yes, that one," he said curtly. "Why not contact **them** instead? With such odd talent and circumstances your twin sister has, I would have no doubt that your request would have gotten through very quickly."

Junko hummed, as if in contemplation. Then, she simply said, "Because this'd be faster." She waved her hand around nonchalantly as she continued with, "Why go through that long procedure, when I can just go to the main man himself?"

Damn. She actually had a point there. This only made Jin's migraine grow.

"Miss Enoshima, there is a **committee** for a reason," he said warily.

"But there's also a **Headmaster** for a reason," she countered.

Damn, she was dangerous.

And much too smart. Was her idle chatter and gossiping earlier just a ruse…? A way to wear him out…?

No, he was thinking too much into this. She was just clever. She must have picked it up from constantly dealing with the dog eats dog world of the modeling scene.

Jin gave a sigh. "I suppose I can look into the case of Mukuro Ikusaba myself for now, and give it a forward through, to the top of the committee," he said slowly.

"Really, Headmaster?!" the girl asked excitingly. For once, she looked like any normal highschooler. And, well, he supposed such a reaction would naturally be given. He was all but guaranteeing her sister be able to join her at the school.

"What you said sounded very interesting indeed," Jin chuckled. "And letting such talent never becoming recognized would be a shame, as you'd pointed out."

"Whoohoo! Thanks, Headmaster!" Junko cheered as she launched across his desk to give him an awkward hug that smashed the man's face into her collarbone. "You totally won't regret it! I promise! I super duper ultra high school ultimate promise!"

Before he could react, she'd let go of him and ran out of his office, screaming like a metal band singer.

He could still hear the loud whooping and "FUCK YEAH!"s as she presumably left the building.

Maybe this time, on her way out, she'd be caught…

He kind of doubted it.

Jin simply dragged a hand across his hair, adjusted his tie, sighed, and decided to leave his paperwork for tomorrow morning to work on.

Oh, and he had to look into Mukuro Ikusaba's talent and probable admittance.

…Jin Kirigiri was a very busy man…He was the Headmaster for the prestigious school Hope's Peak Academy, which had a long history of producing the best youths to go into the workforce…

And somehow, he got suckered into doing even **more** work by one of his future students. A teenage girl who was the _Ultimate Fashionista_, and who he never would have expected to be so clever or manipulative.

He had a feeling that Junko Enoshima was going to be an even bigger handful, once the coming school year officially started.


	14. Unexpected

**AN**: Hello, I'm back officially as SHSL Trash *slam dunks self in the garbage*

It's been nearly 3 weeks since I updated. I have literally no excuse, considering that I still don't have school.

However, before you start throwing miniature Komaedas at me- I reached a writing block. Every time I tried opening up Word, I couldn't muster anything decent. I didn't want to post a backlogged chapter, because I had **promised** that this chapter would be a **requested** one. _I always do my best to give people their requests, so those are __**always**__ top priority._

Now, as a response to _Annani: Gah, you're too kind! But I'm glad I got you into the multi-shipping boat with me. And I'll definitely get your request done- I'll push myself to get my writing juices flowing and get you your junkomaeda!_

* * *

REQUESTED (by Crazedpooch on AO3)

Kiyotaka Ishimaru x Mahiru Koizumi

(Ishikoi, Ishizumi, Kiyohiru)

Unexpected

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Kiyotaka Ishimaru_ was incredibly proud of himself on how flawlessly he had went through his first day of classes at _Hope's Peak Academy_. Despite how lenient the first day was, and how it was primarily focused as a time to get to know his new classmates, he believed that he did his absolute best to both leave a good impression and be a proper, diligent student.

Now, a classmate would typically give themselves a few weeks to acclimate themselves within a new environment and peers. However, Kiyotaka often went above and beyond, so that he could be the best student and peer possible.

So, after classes finally let out for the day, the _Ultimate Prefect_ quickly made it his mission to greet and introduce himself to as many of his fellow alumni whilst making rounds across the campus. It was better for both himself and his peers if they knew who he was, and how he strove to uphold a good school environment through disciplinary actions.

After all, this was a school of geniuses. He had to make a name for himself quickly, and show the degree of how intolerant he was of their rule-breaking, lazy ways.

What he did **not** expect, whilst quickly striding across the beautiful campus, was…Well, running across someone who looked like they weren't an insufferable genius at all, but rather someone who was **average**.

Short, red hair. Normal female face and body structure. Freckles.

She wasn't the picture of average, like his classmate _Makoto Naegi_. Why, red hair was very uncommon for the majority of the Japanese populace, for one. However, an aura of serene normalcy seemed to surround the girl.

Why, if she wasn't wearing the _Hope's Peak_ uniform, and carried an odd, small bag strapped to her side—he honestly would have thought that she was one of the preparatory course students.

He couldn't help but stare at her. And stare intently, at that.

He had considered himself lucky, in how his class wasn't simply full to the brim of insufferable geniuses, as he had imagined. He even felt a kinship to Naegi-kun, who was the most average of them all, and had much to prove.

But he honestly didn't expect to meet even **more** students who were average— people who gained a spot in the prestigious school through sheer hard work and determination, like himself. Because, really, how **else** would the girl have gotten in…?

He couldn't help staring at her, a sudden surge of kinship with the redhead enveloping him, despite the fact that he didn't even know the girl.

It's possible that she was the _Lucky Student_ of her year, but he honestly felt like she would be more than that. There was an oddly bright fire in her eyes, one that told of determination and fighting hardships. She didn't have the grateful, hopeful, complacent look of a Lucky Student (—no offense to Naegi-kun, who was very polite and kind, but he was too star struck compared with those who were invited with a talent—)nor the lofty look of a genius.

Taka, however, was snapped out of his intense scrutiny and reverie by the very girl he was watching.

Mahiru had felt a very strong gaze upon her, and had looked around nervously, hoping it wasn't someone that would cause her trouble. Her gaze landed on a **boy,** who was staring at her.

She stiffened, quickly going on the offensive, before he could do anything to hurt her. She whirled to face him.

"Excuse me—**Why** are you staring at me?" Mahiru quickly asked the intense-looking boy, bristling, fists on her hips.

The boy simply blinked his red eyes, his large eyebrows furrowing slightly. She scoffed; he was obviously playing dumb.

"It's not polite for a **boy** to stare at a girl like that, you know! If you've got something to say to me—be a **man** and take responsibility, and say it to my face," she harped on, trying to hide how uncomfortable and embarrassed she felt by this guy unabashedly staring at her.

The tall boy suddenly snapped to attention, his back ramrod-straight. Out of all the possible things he could of done, he did something that she hadn't even **considered** a course of action he'd take.

Of **course** Kiyotaka Ishimaru would answer to such a claim, even though Mahiru wouldn't have known. Taka was all about being proper, courteous, responsible— and most importantly, being an honorable man who was bluntly honest.

"I apologize, miss!" Kiyotaka quickly said, his voice loud, before giving a very curt and proper bow. "It was rude of me to do so, as well as the fact that I didn't introduce myself!"

Mahiru blinked owlishly, her mouth slightly agape, as the boy then did just that.

"I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru; some refer to me as Taka! I am the Ultimate Prefect! It is a pleasure to meet you, miss!" the boy belted out with passion, before giving a deep, respectful bow towards her.

She was flustered; Ishimaru's sudden, **polite** actions were unexpected and caught her off guard. It didn't help any that his voice was naturally loud, it seemed; either that, or he was simply passionate of his duties.

She noted belatedly that his actions at least matched up with his talent, at the very least. Giving a small nod to herself, Mahiru prepared to ask something before introducing herself.

"So, you were staring at me before, because…?" she asked curiously, trailing off.

"I-I was simply wondering who you were, and your respective talent, miss…" Ishimaru answered, flustered.

He didn't know what to do in such a social situation as this; he had already apologized, and fixed his rude mistake. However, the redheaded girl still questioned his actions and motives.

It was all very jarring. It did not help that she was a girl, and very sharp.

Before Kiyotaka could worry himself into a frenzy, the girl answered.

"Koizumi," she stated. Ishimaru blinked quickly, staring oddly at her, and she huffed a small puff of air.

"Mahiru Koizumi; that's my name," Mahiru clarified, feeling her cheeks heat up slightly. "I'm the Ultimate Photographer. I'm in the class right above you."

Ah, well that explained the bag strapped to her hip. It was a bag for a camera, no doubt. He did not know much about photography, but Taka reasoned that even those that seem average could theoretically become great photographers.

Her title explained her normalcy somewhat. It was also spot-on to his thoughts of her being more than simply the Lucky Student of her class.

"I apologize for not knowing you, Koizumi-kun! It is just that I only conducted research of my current class, and not of any sempai…" Kiyotaka told her tentatively.

He didn't want to seem overtly rude for not knowing of her. More so, considering how she told him her surname, and he simply stared dumbly at her; she seemed a bit more irate after that transgression, and her cheeks gained a pink tint to them.

She was his upperclassman, so he still wanted to make a good impression on her. Even more, considering how she seemed down-to-earth, and someone who would often get to the heart of the matter at hand.

Mahiru started, surprised at how…considerate he was, and his genuine apology for never having heard of her. Honestly, he was one of the few males in her peer group that hadn't said something to her to make her dislike him, and had acted up to the standards she held for men.

"It's fine. I think that's what each new class generally does: just research their upcoming classmates," she told him soothingly. "It's what I did last year, too."

"I…I see. That is a relief. I did not want to offend you, sempai," Kiyotaka told her, his stiffness slowly ebbing from his body in relief.

"Besides, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of me. My talent isn't as unique as some of my classmate's; mine's more mundane," she grinned awkwardly, hands behind her back.

"Nonsense, Koizumi-kun!" Kiyotaka interjected, personally affronted that she held herself and her work in such low esteem. She must have worked hard for her accomplishments—and she managed to get into Hope's Peak, so she must be much better than she believes!

Mahiru startled out of her small bout of self-deprecation, staring wide-eyed at the Prefect, who went on to give a passionate, uplifting speech.

"I believe that **that** is the very thing that makes you unique! Being proficient in an activity that may get overlooked, and showing that with hard work and determination, you can take such a thing to unrivaled heights! No matter how mundane you may be, or how far you seem you are from being a genius, you have become the Ultimate of what you do!"

"That, in itself, is commendable—at least in **my** personal opinion! It is rare to meet a genius—yet rarer still to meet someone considered average who has talent and is up to par with a genius. It is why I noticed you so quickly!"

When Taka was finished, he was glaring to keep tears from falling down his face, his fists were clenched, and he felt winded from giving such a soulful speech. Heat seemed to travel across his body at how the redhead was gaping unabashedly at him in shock, and with something akin to respect or… **admiration**.

"I…I-I am sorry for that, Koizumi-kun, I…Did not know what overcame me," Kiyotaka said stiffly, his mouth feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton. His eyes roamed to any sight but the red-haired girl.

There was no doubt that his spiel came off as 'too strong'. She would want nothing to do with him now, just like his peers from junior high. She would think he'd be too emotionally invested in something that most considered trivial. She'd call him a freak, weird, a creep—and avoid him as much as possible, which he supposes would be no problem for her, as she **was** a year above him…

Oh, and just when he considered her a possible equal—a fellow mundane who managed to make themself a space in the society of money, prodigies, geniuses, and talent…

At least he still had Naegi-kun to try and befriend and join together with. A small hope in the pit of dread…

"Um…Thanks," a quiet voice uttered, piercing through Kiyotaka's self-inflicted haze of despair.

Kiyotaka, of course, wasn't prepared to answer to such a response. He gave an intelligent "Wha…?", eyes the size of plates, in a spluttering voice that some would consider too dramatic.

"I **said**: thanks. For what you said. About me," Mahiru choked out, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.

She'd had to do something—**say** something, despite her pride, surprise, and embarrassment making it almost impossible to answer. At the very least, she wanted to make the stiff boy stop looking like he was going to bawl at any moment...

"It was…Well, it wasn't something I was expecting—but I, um, appreciate it, nonetheless," she told him, an arm folded behind her back to grasp her other arm tentatively. Her face was heating up, no doubt housing a blush.

"That is—That is good," Kiyotaka said awkwardly. "It would not do if a fellow sensible student doubted themselves—we need to stick together, and work doubly hard to earn our names."

At this point, Kiyotaka Ishimaru had absolutely **no** clue what to do. He'd never been in such a predicament, and had no experience to go with to keep this conversation successful.

He had even less knowledge when it came to speaking with the opposite sex. The meaning of Koizumi-kun's fidgeting and coloration of her face, as well as her thanking him, still eluded him. At his point, he was becoming emotionally and socially tired.

It seems like once again, he said something correct, thankfully. She grinned brightly at him, in answer to his statement.

"Yeah, I guess we do, don't we?" Mahiru said, her pointer finger pointed up in realization. "And, well—I honestly didn't expect to meet someone like you. I wish you were in my class, so you could be another sensible head—Sato-chan and I have our work cut out for us!"

Kiyotaka blinked in surprise. He was…flattered that his sempai wanted him to be in her class, and thought so highly of him.

He laughed, and gave her one of his patented 'nice' smiles. (He'd learned in junior high that smiling was a social cue that helped bring a sense of understanding and camaraderie with those you spoke with.)

"Well, I would not be against it! However, I will still monitor the halls, so I will just have to be a traveling sensible head!" he told her cheerfully.

"Alright, I'll remember that," Mahiru nodded, giving him a small smile. She then gave a sigh, hands on her hips, as she thought how much better high school would be if guys could be more intelligent, forward, honorable, and polite as Ishimaru.

"Honestly, why can't more guys be like **you**? So many boys are just **really** immature—they don't act like men at all!" the freckled girl exclaimed in minor exasperation. "You're up to par on my expectations on how men should act, Ishimaru-kun, so I **know** my ideal is possible."

The intense boy looked taken aback, before composing himself, a fist under his chin and a thoughtful look on his face.

"I suppose I can understand what you are saying, Koizumi-kun, from my brief experience with some of my male classmates," Taka noted, thinking pointedly of Kuwata-kun, Owada-kun, and Hagakure-kun. He then held out his fist in front of him, as he had an epiphany.

"Then I suppose I shall work on changing that!" Ishimaru-kun said, with a burning aura surrounding him. "I shall make your ideal a reality, Koizumi-kun! Then perhaps it will help bring the student body together as a whole, and drive all males to perform even more spectacularly as students of Hope's Peak!"

Mahiru flushed, feeling flattered that he took her comments and bemoaning to heart, and wanted to change things. For **her**.

Before she could stop herself, she giggled. "You're not what I expected, Ishimaru-kun," she said, voicing the niggling thought that had been floating in her mind, ever since the straight-laced boy opened his mouth.

Everything he did, to her, was very unexpected.

And everything she did, as well, was quite unexpected to him.

Taka blinked, tilting his head slightly to the side, as if he was a curious puppy. Whilst he still puzzled over what she said, she spoke again.

"You don't **have** make a revolution when it comes to the guys here—some people just don't change, no matter how much you try," Mahiru told him, internally rolling her eyes when she thought of her classmates.

"B-But Koizumi-kun…!" the boy gasped, looking shocked and affronted.

"It's enough that you want to do it. You could just…push them in the right direction," the girl supplied, trying to soothe him before he went on a fiery tangent. "As long as you undertaking this doesn't make you fight with anyone. I'd feel guilty if my ideas got you hurt, or pitted you against your classmates; and it'd be irresponsible."

Kiyotaka thought it over in his mind. Koizumi-kun did, in fact, make a very level-headed argument.

After tossing it over in his mind, he supposed that following her advice would be for the best. She was his sempai, was already privy to being classmates with talented peers, and seemed incredibly adept at socialization.

And even if he did, in fact, want to personally make such a drastic just for her—so as to show her that her faith in him was, indeed, well-placed and appreciated…As well as to show that he was a **man**, and truly fit her ideal of one—he had to admit that he couldn't bear going three more years with classmates that despised him.

"Then…I suppose I shall just 'push them in the right direction', as you have put it! First and foremost, my responsibility is to maintain order, and to make sure that my classmates are the best students they can possibly be! I must achieve that first, before I try such a large undertaking!" Kiyotaka reasoned aloud, nodding his head resolutely in confirmation of his plans.

Mahiru, meanwhile, gave a sigh in relief.

She certainly didn't know what she'd do if Ishimaru-kun went running around, reprimanding almost the entire male population on how to be the 'ideal' man. Worst, if he cited her name, and specifically detailed her ideal image of how the male species should be.

"I must thank you, Koizumi-kun! You are indeed very wise—I should not expect any less from a sempai such as you!" the boy said in his usual loud boast, beaming brightly at the redhead.

Mahiru, once more, felt flattered. "Oh, it's nothing, really. Glad I could help my kouhai out!" she responded brightly. "If you need any more advice, I'll gladly give it."

Personally, she felt like he'd need it, so that he wouldn't rush into anything. Boys can be dumb and reckless, after all.

But, she also felt like he had definitely earned her respect. It was rare for any male to get that from her; most didn't deserve or earn it from her, but Ishimaru-kun quickly managed to do just that.

She didn't mind him at all.

"If I need any advice, then I shall gladly go to you, then!" Kiyotaka responded, elated that he had such a confidant in the girl. He never had such a thing in his previous time as a student—this spoke volumes of how similar they truly were, if they already had such a helpful relationship in one another.

"Also, you may confide in me of any rule-breaking or bad behavior you encounter!" Kiyotaka added. "Also…Of any problems you are experiencing! I cannot simply take your time and advice in good conscious without giving something in return."

Mahiru's grin widened. He was going above and beyond her expectations; he was fine with taking her advice, and was even offering his own solutions to any problems she had.

Maybe if her father was more like him, then she'd have had an easier life, and less worries.

"Of course, Ishimaru-kun!" she piped up. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you," she noted, giving a quick laugh.

"Then it is official. We are now sensible confidants!" Kiyotaka said boisterously, barely believing his good fortune, as he stuck out his hand for a handshake to finalize the momentous occasion. He brightened even more as Koizumi-kun took his hand and gave it a firm shake, a fire in her eyes. The same fire that had first cemented her in his mind of being a fellow hard worker.

When she pulled her hand away, Kiyotaka noted that it had felt oddly good, to have had her hand in his. It was either that, or the look in her eyes that caused the reaction. He tucked the small event away for further analyses at a later time.

"Sensible confidants," Mahiru repeated. "I think we need to commemorate this rare occasion—," she suddenly added, as she quickly unzipped her camera pouch with nimble fingers, taking the device out and presenting it with a flourish, "With a picture!"

Ishimaru-san gave his odd-sounding laugh, his hands help up. "What a wonderful idea, Koizumi-kun!"

"Great!" Mahiru piped peppily, before moving next to Ishimaru-kun, who looked a bit taken-aback from how quickly she was by his side.

"Now, I don't exactly have my camera stand with me, and there's no good place to use as a platform so I can use the timer…" she explained. "So this'll be unprofessional, but taking a selfie with you is the only option I have right now. I hope you don't mind."

Taka had no clue what a 'selfie' was, but he supposed he could not complain. She was, after all, the photographer.

And it also felt nice to have her be so close to him, if he allowed himself to admit.

"Not at all!" he voiced. "You are the Ultimate Photographer—I am sure it will come out well!"

"Thanks," she grinned, pink dusting her cheeks. She then held her camera—her expensive, **professional** camera—backwards, familiar with the etiquette of taking shitty phone-camera pictures of herself. At the very least, she knew how to handle her high-quality camera so she would get a good picture.

She then pressed herself close to the Prefect, not noticing the pink on his own cheeks, as she readied the camera.

"3…2…1…Smile!" She exclaimed, before pressing down the button her finger was poised over. There was a quick flash, a small beep, and Mahiru quickly withdrew the device to look at the photo on the small screen.

Ishimaru-kun had his incredibly wide smile on his face, all teeth. Instead of stiffly standing next to her, like she had expected, he actually did something with one of his arms—he had brought the one she wasn't squished onto into a militaristic salute.

She, meanwhile, was incredibly close to him. Her arms weren't long, he was taller than her, and taking pictures like that was always a bit difficult, so it was necessary. She noted that she looked really similar to some of the other pictures she'd taken with someone, with her camera backwards; small peace sign by her face, grinning widely, leaning slightly to the side, and very close towards her friend.

The picture was a surpassingly good one, she noted. Her amazing camera, coupled with her talent, she surmised with a grin. Even clichéd pictures she took turned out pretty good.

"Amazing!" Ishimaru-kun noted, awe in his voice. Mahiru belatedly realized that he'd be able to look down over her shoulder to the display screen and see the picture as well.

"A tight fit, but it came out well," she responded happily, shooting a look towards the boy.

"I would like a copy of it—" Kiyotaka blurted, without thinking. He bashfully added, "If you do not mind, of course! It is just that it looks very nice, and I did not own many pictures…"

His family pooled all their money to pay off their grandfather's debt. That did not leave much money to be spent on getting any professional family photos taken, or buying any photo packages from school. Why, they rarely took pictures in general—only for the most important of occasions, making a disposable camera or a roll of film last for at least two years, or more.

This photo would be added to precious, small collection that he brought with him to Hope's Peak.

Mahiru, meanwhile, didn't expect such an admittance. Ishimaru-kun seemed like the type to have parents who would buy lots of school photos, or take pictures of him whenever he accomplished something.

"I don't mind! I was thinking of giving you a copy anyway—you're in the picture too, after all!" Mahiru told him, trying to inject some cheer into his nervous demeanor.

It seemed to work. He brightened considerably, his confidence back, as he gave his hearty laugh.

"Then I shall look forwards to it! You may contact me any time I am in the halls, or even at my dorm room through the buzzer system," Kiyotaka informed her, before stepping away from Koizumi-kun and her camera, the screen still showing the wonderful photograph.

He noted that he felt colder without her next to him, in close quarters. A slow tug in his abdomen also spoke of discomfort for leaving her side. He brushed it off as him simply not wanting to part from his first successful bond with a peer his age.

"Alright—I'll definitely do that," Mahiru said, nodding. "I'll leave you to go and monitor the halls, okay? I'm going to go around to take some photos; I just got some inspiration for some new camera angles!"

A brand new school year seemed ripe with new experiences and inspiration, but just taking that one picture with Ishimaru-kun fueled a fire within her to try some new things.

Maybe she'll meet with some of the other freshmen, or maybe she'll get an unexpectedly good shot from a different angle. Something new and fresh.

"Will do! Goodbye, Koizumi-kun!" Taka answered happily, turning on his boot-clad heel to go and monitor the halls, as originally intended.

As he strode away from the red-haired girl, he wondered if he'd have as much success with the other sempai as he did with her meeting.

His interactions with her had been, after all, very unexpected. Yet, very pleasant.

They certainly wouldn't mind interacting and confiding in one another more, in the future.


	15. Hopeful and Despairing Plans

**AN**: I decided to make up how late the other chapter had been by putting my writing cap on giving you guys another chapter!

Also— Man, I've been getting a lot of requests! You guys don't know how happy it makes me when people comment on my fic, and like it so much that they want me to give my **own** take on a certain pairing!

It just makes me happy how much attention my collection of oneshots is getting, aaaaa I LOVE YOU ALL

* * *

REQUESTED (by Annani)

Junko Enoshima x Nagito Komaeda

(Junkomaeda, Junkoma)

Hopeful and Despairing Plans

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Junko Enoshima_ had a plan.

That plan was such a wonderfully diabolical plan, that she honestly couldn't believe the plan hadn't been planned out and implemented a while ago. Although a few days **shouldn't** be that much of a while, it **was**—because these things took time, after all. Which is why, now that she had the plan, she knew she should have **implemented** that plan—and even come up with it!—days earlier! Really, in essence, it was the most simple of plans—which is what made it so dastardly and **brilliant**, not to mention the fact that the beautiful genius Junko Enoshima made it. She was a truly wonderful mastermind—one befitting the rare title of Despair Queen. And this plan would be her chance to butter up all those other hopefuls, and show them how fashionable and cute Despair was, like her! Upupupu…

Ah…There she goes on one of her tangents…This could take a while.

One could have honestly skipped that entire word-barf—that was honestly just Junko Enoshima rambling diabolically, whilst switching personalities.

It was a wonder how no one really noticed how unstable and incredibly insane she was, especially when she got rambling, like just now.

But to re-iterate the **important** part of this entire spiel—Junko Enoshima had a plan. An incredibly simple plan that would help the slow spread of Despair through the Hope of the country.

Junko Enoshima wanted to go out and try 'befriending' some of the other students of the Academy—her sempai.

Why, you may ask? Why not just make her class of young, hopeful freshies join her in her conquest of _Ultimate Despair_?

It's simple, really: they were much too soft, and Junko was already much too fond of them, despite only being in their midst for a few days.

Junko decided that her class was good for giving her a steady income of possibilities and little nuggets of despair, however, wouldn't work well when it came to actually spreading Despair with her. She had **other** plans for them.

However, her sempai were fair game. Actually preferable, as well. They had greater hope, but were also there in the Academy long enough to possibly notice some of the more hypocritical, dark ideologies and actions of _Hope's Peak Academy_.

Plus, she had only properly met her own class. Meeting her sempai was a given, sooner or later. It just worked out that sooner was better than later.

So with that thought, Junko Enoshima whirled gracefully in a circle, one of her arms pointed outwards. As she slowed to a complete stop, she looked in the direction her arm was pointed. Deciding that her natural intuition was correct, she grinned, and then flounced off in that direction.

Meeting her sempais was going to be interesting.

* * *

If one followed the direction Junko Enoshima was heading, and sped forwards a few hundred or so feet past the walls of the main building, one would see a boy. A boy with an intense bed head that made his oddly white-colored hair look like a piece of microwaved soap.

That boy was _Nagito Komaeda_. And ironically enough, he was thinking a similar thought as Junko.

But rather than think of Despair, he thought of Hope. And rather than his plan being diabolical, it was just kind of creepy. Then again, this is Komaeda we're talking about; he's always been a bit off. Anyone who wears such a weird coat that resembled a trench-coat with questionable status of cleanliness—and who, if you met in a dark alley, would have an eerie resemblance to a serial killer—as well as held such an intense boner for things that rhymed with 'dope', but were in fact **not** dope, would be kind of funky.

Oh, but back to Coocoo for Koko Hope Puffs…

Komaeda had a plan. A simple plan. And no, it doesn't involve being just a kid, and that life is a nightmare.

Komaeda wanted to meet the new class—his kouhai—and see just how wonderfully bright their hope was!

He had decided to leave proper introductions aside for a few days, to allow the fresh class of hopefuls to acclimate themselves in their new environment and classmates. He wouldn't want such trash like himself to cause of fluctuation in their wonderful hope, after all. He was patient; he could wait.

And he **did** wait. But now he was itching to properly meet and greet the Freshman class. So, that's what he was currently planning to do.

Of course, that plan would have **never** prepared him for the destructive cyclone that was Junko Enoshima.

"Heeeey! Hey, sempaaaaai!" a loud voice boomed towards the sickly hope enthusiast.

Before he could glance around to see which fortunate student was being called to interact with the voice, a girl suddenly dominated his vision.

She was a very captivating girl. Very beautiful, radiating with such kinetic energy, that she seemed to be glowing.

A girl that often looked up from covers of fashion magazines across the country. The iconic blonde, who was invited as the _Ultimate Fashionista_ to Hope's Peak.

"Hey, guess what?" she asked cutely, her eyes wide and sparkling. "You're the first sempai-chan that I'm gweeting! How lucky are you, huh?"

Komaeda, finding the entire situation ironic, suddenly laughed.

"I suppose my title of _Ultimate Lucky Student_ has its uses after all!" he noted cheerfully, giving a wide, pleasant grin down at the blonde. "Although, it's often as useless as a rotting fish."

The pigtailed girl blinked up at him for a few seconds, before speaking.

"Huh. I had a **feeling** that such a fashion disaster couldn't possibly be a special talent," Junko noted, with a bemused grin.

"No, of course not. I suppose being trash translates to my clothing choice as well," Komaeda answered, not even missing a beat.

"Yet, I truly **am** honored to be the first upperclassman to properly meet you, Enoshima-san, despite not being the best of choices," he quickly supplied. "My fortune must be great, for such an insignificant person as me to be given such a chance. I am Nagito Komaeda, Enoshima-san, and it is a pleasure to meet you."

Throughout his long rambling, Junko merely looked at him with amusement, her grin widening after every sentence he uttered. Her eyes twinkled, and he had the distinct feeling that he shouldn't feel **this** good for making her so happy. But he did.

How odd, he noted.

But then, Junko Enoshima gave a royal laugh. She truly found this self-depreciating boy to be more than she'd bargained for. Why, the fact that he thought so lowly of himself spoke volumes of the despair he's had in his past!

This was indeed, a fortunate turn of events, she decided.

"My my—are **all** Lucky Students like this?" Junko Enoshima asked rhetorically, fists on her hips. "Is it a requirement for the title, to think so lowly of oneself?"

"Hm?" Komaeda asked, a bit taken aback by the inquiries, although still with a pleasant air about him.

"Why, my classmate, _Makoto Naegi_, has a similar disposition," Enoshima-san said, suddenly sounding incredibly analytical. "He is self-deprecating, and feels himself unworthy in many respects when in the presence of the other Ultimate students."

"_Upupuhuhu_…So I gotta ask again—are **all** Lucky Students like this?" she asked, snickering in an odd voice, fist over her mouth.

Komaeda took a moment to think it over. It **is** possible; after all, 'Lucky Student' isn't a **real** talent, yet such lowly mundanes are able to be classmates with **true** Ultimate students through the lottery system.

Perhaps he should meet this Makoto Naegi next. They sounded like they had a few things in common…

"Mmm…It's a possibility," Komaeda said aloud, smiling brightly. "After all, we're rather useless compared to the other Ultimate students in term of actual talent. It's a given, really!" he said, ending his small tangent, hands held out palm-upwards.

Junko Enoshima burst out into despairing laughter. Maybe she didn't have to work on this boy that much after all! How despairingly easy!

However, the boy with the terrible fashion sense suddenly spoke up, saying such despicable **things** that made the Despair Queen's insides curl and turn into ice.

"However, Lucky Students are truly blessed, to be able to be part of such hope! To attend the Hope of the nation, to be there and bask in the talent and hope of peers… Why, we even have the honor of helping fuel and nurture the hopes of our peers, without a proper talent!

"And in the essence of us not having talent, we have the largest margin for our hopes—and ourselves, as students of the school, as well as individuals—to be able to grow and blossom into something truly spectacular! Why, just being able to **speak** with such hopefuls makes me feel like I'm contributing into something big—something far greater than any negativity in the world.

"Lucky Students are lucky enough to help in the creation of the largest force of positivity—the largest of hopes! We are mere stepping-stones, so that the hope created can be even more potent and wonderful than the hope of before!"

Komaeda breathed heavily—from both his long tangent, as well as the elation he felt from preaching of the ultimate force that was Hope. His arms were still outstretched, palm-upwards, as he looked upon the girl who held so much hope, for having such a wonderful talent as Ultimate Fashionista…

Except, she didn't. She didn't have any hope at all, in her usually bright visage.

She looked disgusted at him—which wasn't a new occurrence at all to his somewhat obsessed ramblings, not at all, but **this** disgust wasn't even hopeful in the **slightest**—and a ferocious fire brimmed in her eyes.

That fire, that energy…No, it couldn't be…!

Oh, but it was. There was no mistaking it.

He had seen enough of it to know what was housed in her eyes. In her stance—looking incredibly peeved and disagreeing, arms held in front of her as if to shield her from any and all disgusting things—and her entire body, even.

Despair.

He didn't notice it, before. She'd seemed so hopeful, so talented…Maybe a bit questionably off—but really, what genius **wasn't** a bit quirky?—but definitely radiant and joyous.

But after his tangent, she recoiled with such disgust—as if she was the witch from The Wizard of Oz, and he had hurled water at her—such apparent **loathing**, from his hopeful ideas…From Hope itself…That there was no mistaking it.

She was a vessel of despair. She had masked it well, with her hopeful talent and kinetic energy. However, it was like a wolf wearing sheep's clothing—once one yanked off the costume, it was apparent that she was anything but pleasant.

Komaeda felt incredibly uneasy then. Sick, even. Because she had enraptured him **easily**, ensnaring him in joy and purpose. She already had a natural pull to her, and he fell into her honey-trap without noting the vinegar core she held.

She could do that to **anyone**, he noted with a hint of panic. She could take their fragile hopes, and taint them with her despair. She was like a siren—leading all hopefuls to crash and drown in a deep pit of dread. And he had fell for it.

However, as potent as her despair was, he had potent **hope**. Before she could truly sink her claws in him in this first meeting, he realized what she was, and broke free from her siren's song to shift his Hope's Ark into safer waters.

It didn't make him feel any less uneasy about her, however. He'd have to keep a close eye on her, and her actions.

She was dangerous.

* * *

Junko Enoshima was thinking a similar thought as Nagito Komaeda.

How ironic.

But rather of thinking hope-oriented thoughts, she thought of despair-oriented ones.

How could she be so **stupid** to not notice the blatant shining hope this piece of microwaved soap held?! It was so, so **obvious**!

Junko Enoshima screamed in rage and frustration in her mind. She felt all her personalities fighting for dominance, to arise to the surface, to bubble over and envelop the boy in pure and utter **dread**…

At first, she thought despair was the reason why this odd boy was so self-deprecating. That he thought so little of himself because he was obviously despairing.

But, no. No, it was actually the complete **opposite**!

He thought so little of himself, because he held high regard to the hopeful students of the Academy. He thought little of himself, because he saw himself as a stepping-stone towards the disgusting ideal of **Hope**.

And after his little hopeful spiel, it was completely and utterly obvious what his ideals about Hope were.

He **revered** hope. Like how she revered **despair**.

How absolutely **disgusting**.

What disgusting **trash**, preaching to her about how **wonderful** hope was! To **her**—The Despair Queen! If this situation wasn't so horrifying, she'd laugh like a madman!

The most horrifying part of this entire thing was learning the fact that this kid had the largest hope-boner **imaginable**. It was like a punch to the gut. It made her insides freeze and shrivel and die all at once.

The next most horrifying part was looking at the potent, insane **hope** that swirled in his eyes after he was done spilling his word barf all over her. It was so bright and **positive** that it made her feel like retching on his shitty coat.

Then came the most awful, most despair-inducing part of the entire situation: the exact moment when she realized how **alike** they were.

How his swirling eyes full of hope, mirrored her own swirling eyes of despair. How his feverish, hopeful rant was akin to her own despair-inducing rants. How bright and enticing his entire being looked, after giving his convictions of how wonderful hope was—which mirrored her own wonderful, beautiful, breathtaking, despair-filled being whenever she finished explaining how wonderful despair was.

It terrified, disgusted—and surprisingly enough—aroused her greatly.

This was **not** going as planned.

Mustering up enough energy as possible, she schooled her features to be blank, if only to give her a few moments to decide which mask she wanted to put on next.

And Komaeda watched, as her entire being went blank for a few moments. As if one just managed to wipe away her features.

In that lull—the purgatory, where positive and negative, yin and yang, met—they both decided to put back on cheerful masks. To go through the conversation, as if they both didn't have epiphanies about the other. To make it as if they were both just normal students in the Academy.

They also firmly decided to watch one another's actions closely. That she would wipe away all his hope with her despair. That he would combat her despair with his bright hope.

The fight between Hope and Despair was definitely on, now. It would be fought out through these two teenagers, who personified each ideal, yet would never make itself known to others.

It would be a battle fought out of sight. It would only bubble under their plastered masks, until one side decided to surge forwards past such barriers and try attacking the other through more physical means.

Right now, Junko Enoshima and Nagito Komaeda were engaging in psychological warfare.

"Wow, you should **definitely** be in commercials for Hope's Peak! You remind me of my preacher from back home—minus the fact that he didn't wear clothes nearly as ugly as yours, of course," she grinned cheekily, giving a chuckle under her breath.

"Ah—Yes, well, I have heard of such comparisons," he said lightly, giving her an eye-smile.

"**Really**, they'd have to clean up your looks big-time, if it ever happens. You look like a **hobo** or something—not very good for the image of the school, right?" she said, flashing up double-horns and sticking her tongue out at him.

He gave a laugh. "Ah, Enoshima-san, you are incredibly perceptive! I believe that even the Headmaster mentioned my choice of attire a bit odd, in terms of how cleanly it looks."

"Then maybe you should consult in me, Komaeda, in all future endeavors of clothing yourself. I am, after all, the Ultimate Fashionista," she said logically.

"Mmmmm… I suppose so!" Komaeda answered, a fake, pleasant smile plastered on his face.

"I'll hold you to that!" Junko Enoshima declared, her own wide, fake smile plastered on her face.

"Anyways, I gotta go—I promised to do something with Mukuro-chan today," she went on cutely, lying in order to leave the white-haired boy and make a tactical retreat.

"Ah, I see! Then do not allow someone insignificant like me to hold you back from your promises, Enoshima-san," Komaeda said cordially, a finger held up by the side of his head. He was actually relieved that she had decided to retreat first.

"Don't worry, I won't," the blonde answered, giving her odd little giggle. "It was nice meetin' ya, sempai!"

"Yes, it was quite a pleasure to meet you as well, Enoshima-san!" he answered happily, giving her a wave and an eye-smile as she spun on her boot-clad feet and sashayed off back towards the main building.

Both of their plastic smiles slid off their faces, as they contemplated their next actions.

Komaeda knew that no one would believe him if he warned them of Enoshima's despair—or, at least, **his** class definitely wouldn't. They'd already went through his odd hope-preaching phases, and he knew they all felt uneasy about him. And his sempais would have heard of his oddities as well, so it would take work to convince them.

Perhaps he could try working on the other Freshman. It would be hard, as they were Enoshima's classmates, but if he could even just **help** in protecting their hopes…He believed all would be fine; it would all be worth it.

Junko Enoshima knew that crushing that fool—with his blindingly bright hope, and his hopeful ideologies—would take work. Either she'd have to start on him early, or she'd have to hit him hard to try breaking him and successfully converting him to Despair.

However, she knew she had more allies than Komaeda. If he went on such weird spiels often, than his classmates would find him odd, which would help in her cause in crushing them. It would have the added affect of helping her get closer to them.

Not to mention, she already had Muku-chan—her dear, disappointing older sister—to rely on as a strong ally.

Junko flounced away to tell her older twin the news of the threat, and Komaeda wandered off to see what fate would throw at him after such a meeting.


	16. Punk Rock Soul Mates

**AN**: I've been obsessed with drawing people's OCs in a Hunger Games SYOC story by a talented writer. My character got accepted, which made me ecstatic.

I think that's one of the few OCs of mine that's ever going to be used in an actual story, because I am a weenie who just has like dozens of OCs, yet never actually uses them. (Fun fact, I've made enough DR OCS to fuel 2 entire fan stories. I just cANT STOP)

But yeah- I've got a long list of requests that I'm determined to accomplish. *Nanami puffing her cheeks sprite* So here, have some punk rock dorks

* * *

REQUESTED (by SiaCatGirl)

Leon Kuwata x Ibuki Mioda

(Leobuki, Leonibuki, Punk Rock)

Punk Rock Soul Mates

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Leon Kuwata_ felt like he and _Ibuki Mioda_ were honestly soul mates.

Most would think that the _Ultimate Baseball Star_ to be considering them soul mates was a bit much, however Leon **definitely** knew it was true. Because from the first moment they looked at one another, they just seemed to _click_.

They just meshed incredibly well. Both were energetic, determined, and loud. Both had the same work ethic, liked the same music genre, had the same style, and shared the same favorite bands.

When Leon hung out with Ibuki, he felt like two halves of a whole finally fit themselves together.

It could be the weenie romantic in him, true. And he did, in fact, consider Ibuki to be really hot. And that she was pretty much his dream girl, in various respects.

However, there was also the fact that Ibuki seemed to **get** him. Like, **really** get him. In a '_Wow, can you read my mind? Are we long-lost twins? Are our souls linked or something?_' type of way.

Ibuki was actually the **one** girl that he liked that he **wouldn't** mind staying as friends with. She just seemed to be the **one** person that held such a strong bond with him, that he honestly felt like they would **always** be friends throughout the rest of their lives.

And considering how many close, life-long friends he made in his class, that was saying something.

So long story short: Leon came to the conclusion that he and Ibuki Mioda were punk rock soul mates. It didn't even matter with him if it was in a platonic or romantic sense—it was simply a fact.

With all that in mind, Leon's current situation made perfect sense. Ibuki being insistent on barging into his room, sprawling herself on his bed, and casually chatting about bands made the same amount of concrete sense as him being named Leon Kuwata, and her being named Ibuki Mioda.

It didn't matter if she was the first girl to ever be in his room, that she was sprawled on his bed, or that they were both alone. They were both cool with it, and there was no weird feelings or tensions or atmosphere.

Just Leon talking music with his best gal Ibuki.

It's not like Ibuki would ever allow it to be anything else, anyways. Despite the fact that she loved showing affection to everyone and anyone, and teased people to boot, she was always insistent on being on good terms with **everyone**.

"Bestest, most punk singer ever?" Ibuki started. She had lifted her legs to point perfectly straight upwards, causing her skirt to fall and bunch up at her crotch, leaving her butt exposed.

Thankfully for both teens and their hormones, only the far wall of Leon's room would ever see such a sight. The redhead was on the entrance side of his bed, and only saw her stocking-clad legs, and her face—which was turned towards him, waiting for an answer.

Honestly, Ibuki always did really weird things, or sat in odd ways. At this point, Leon was desensitized to her antics. He learned to keep from ogling at her _assets_ whenever she did such Ibuki-like things that would put them on display—because, as he learned, she only did so in the presence of people that she wholly trusted and felt comfortable with. (That short list only consisted of him and the _Ultimate Imposter_, surprisingly, despite how trusting and friendly she was.)

And, well…He didn't want to kill their bond, or their trust, just because of something as stupid as hormones.

"Best punk singer? That's easy," Leon scoffed. "It's _Sid Vicious_, of course."

"Of course," Ibuki parroted cheekily. "It's always Sid with you! At least Ibuki can totally see where Leon-chan's look comes from."

"Hey—If it's not broke, don't fix it," Leon-chan grumbled, a lop-sided smile growing on his face. "Cmon—let's see if you can do better. Best, most punk singer ever?"

"_Marilyn Manson_," Ibuki-chan answered swiftly. "_Duh_, Leon-chan!"

"Yeah, I should've seen that coming," Leon-chan said with a laugh, as he sat the edge of his bed, still looking at Ibuki's totally cute, grinning face.

"Hey—If it's not broke, don't fix it," Ibuki-chan shot back cheekily, looking up at him with a smug look and a twinkle in her eyes.

"Don't use my words against me!" he retaliated, a laugh burst from his mouth. "Fine, whatever—I'll admit, that guy rocked. How about _KISS_?"

"That's a band, Leon-chan," Ibuki stated, her grin widening.

"Yeah, yeah," Leon rolled his eyes, a blush crossing his face. "Just answer the question, Oni-Girl."

"Whatever you say, Lion-Boy!" Ibuki replied, giving him a salute and a wink. "_KISS_ is a classic! _My Chemical Romance_?"

"Not bad—It's a good band," Leon-chan noted, nodding his head, the cute flush finally leaving his face. "_Green Day_?"

Ibuki-chan couldn't help it—a snort passed her mouth, before she burst into giggles.

She clutched at her stomach, still giggling, and decided to drop her legs from their shaky perch in the air to sit herself on the bed.

Leon gave an exaggerated pout, ruffling his hair. "Geeze, what's with all the laughing, huh?"

"It's just—How stereotypical, Leon-chan!" Ibuki giggled, falling back and lying on his bed once more. "I **totally** knew you'd bring them up! It's the band that you always try to serenade Sayaka-chan with!"

"Hey, hey, it's a good band! And their songs are awesome!" the boy insisted, his temper flaring along with the heat on his face.

"Ibuki knows—it's just that you're so predictable, Leon-chan. It's funny to Ibuki!" the energetic girl said, trying to explain herself to her now defensive friend.

"S'not funny," Leon grumbled, giving another large pout that made him look like he had a duck's bill. "Can **you** do better?"

"Yup!" Ibuki-chan pepped peppily. "_Aerosmith_!"

Ibuki found the confounded look on Leon-chan's face to be hilarious, and she burst back into giggles.

"Y-Your face…! It's like B-Byakuya-chaaaan's!" Ibuki-chan wheezed. Leon-chan looked shocked and personally offended—his expression startlingly similar as one that Byakuya-chan would wear.

"Aw **hell** no—I'm not like **either** of the Togami's!" Leon-chan insisted, his hair bristling like a cat. "Whatever—I didn't think of _Aerosmith_ at all, despite how legendary they are, **okay**? You happy now?"

"Very," she stated, a cat-like grin on her face, as she sat up again on his bed. She crossed her legs, sitting 'Indian Style', hands on her ankles. "Now, any others…?"

"Okay, okay, lemme think…" Leon grumbled, putting on his 'Thinking Face', as he'd dubbed it. Arms crossed, eyebrows drawn, head tilted, looking up at the corner of his eyes.

"Mmmm…_Orange Range_," he stated with finality.

"Gah—no fair! They're a super awesome, popular band, and did commercials for some of Ibuki's favorite foods!" the horn-haired girl squawked, whilst the red-haired boy looked triumphant. "Fine! Ibuki takes your _Orenji Renji_, and raises you an _UVERworld_!"

"Aw, what the hell!" Leon squawked. "That band is as legendary as _Orange Range_!"

Ibuki put her hands on her hips, a large grin on her face, her nose in the air. "Think you can do better **now**, Leon-chan?"

"Shit, shit, just gimme a minute," he said, roving his eyes around his room for inspiration. His mind was suddenly, frustratingly, blank.

What started out as a friendly back-and-forth about bands had somehow devolved into a contest of sorts. And both sides were determined to win.

The boy's eyes landed on one of his electric guitars in his room—and something in his mind seemed to click.

"_ROOKiEZ is PUNK'D_," Leon stated, grinning. He knew he had her—they even had the word **punk** in their name. It just showed how **awesome** they were!

But then she said something that blew the smugness out of his body.

"That's such a weenie choice, Leon-chan! Are you sure you're not a closet otaku?!" Ibuki asked pointedly, grinning playfully at him.

"What?!" he exclaimed, dumbfounded. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was agape. How she got to such a blasphemous conclusion, he couldn't figure out…

The word _otaku_ finally hammered its way into his mind—and images of his gooney classmate _Hifumi Yamada_ drifted languidly in his mind, like a terribly made _Linkin Park_ AMV. "No! Oh, FUCK no!"

"Their only known songs are the singles they sung for a-ni-meeeeee," Ibuki sing-songed. "O-ta-ku! O-ta-ku! Ibuki's pointing at you!" she finished, pointing her finger right in Leon's horrified face.

"H-Hey! They're a good band, alright?!" he said frantically, his mind rushing in order to find **some** way to redeem himself. Because no **way** was he **anything** that could be associated with **Yamada**.

"Mhmmmmm," Ibuki hummed, in a contemplative pose. Her eyes were closed, her arms were crossed, and she was nodding her head. "Don't worry Leon-chan—the knowledge of your weaboo-ness is safe with Ibuki!"

Leon was scrabbling in his mind, trying to find a way to deflect the accusations off him—before realizing something. Something very vital about Ibuki herself, actually.

"Okay then..." he started, sounding much calmer than before. "What about that Hokage Tea Time band thingie from K-ON, huh, you walking K-ON reference?"

Ibuki's eyes flew open, her pupils dilated in shock. "Gasp!" she said aloud, mouth wide open in shock.

"K-ON's an anime—and you love it, despite how crappy it is," Leon pointed out. "So aren't you an otaku too?"

"Why, I **never**, Leon-chan!" she exclaimed, giving a harrumph. "And that's rude of you to say! K-ON is amazing! A to the M to the A to the Z to the I to the N to the G! A-MA-ZING!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Leon said, rolling his eyes on her obsession with the show.

Although, if one thought about it…Ibuki's name could be made from one character from each of the four main girls' names. Huh—that was kind of scary.

"And and aaaaaaand!" Ibuki-chan exclaimed, as she punched her fist in the air. "It's _HO-KAGO TEA TIME_, not **Hokage** Tea Time! Hmph!" she huffed, annoyed and personally offended, a frown on her usually cute and bright-as-sunshine face.

Again, Leon-chan rolled his eyes at Ibuki-chan, which only made her huff more. She was so irritated, that she swiftly twisted her body, landing with a flop on her stomach, promptly face-planting into Leon-chan's pillow.

"Oh c'mon Ibuki—don't be like that," Leon said with a sigh, as he shook his head fondly at the quirky girl's antics.

"Ibuki **will** be like that," she said, her voice muffled from his pillow. "Also—Did Leon-chan know this…?" Ibuki swiftly popped her face up from the pillow, and looked over her shoulder at her friend.

Before he could ask her what she was talking about, she went on. "Leon-chan's pillow smells like a cross between sweat, Leon-chan's shitty hair gel, Leon-chan's man-shampoo, and dried drool. How can you even sleep on this, Leon-chan?! Use some febreeze on that shit!"

"Well, it's **my** pillow. Go get your own," he retorted with fond exasperation. "Besides, it's not as disgusting as you make it out to be. It's not like yours wouldn't smell like mine—like sweat, gel, shampoo, and drool."

They then broke out in laughter simultaneously. Both laid back casually against the boy's bed, still chatting amicably about musicians, as if they didn't just have a squabble.

"_Yup_," Leon thought to himself, in a content bliss, "_Definitely punk rock soul mates_."


	17. Pity the Bound

**AN**: _Transitioning into college took up most of my time and energy, which is why I haven't updated in a while_. It's not even the workload- which I feel can only get worse from now onwards- it's just going from 5 classes to 3, plus a huge-ass campus that I have to cross every day, and knowing little to no people in every single class. I'm not used to change, man! I'm a creature of shitty habits!

It also doesn't help that konanami is such a hard pairing for me to write for, personally. Can't do any School Life, Post-Game, or Despair-verse for them. And then Koko's gone loco and isn't available for certain stretches in the game, along with the hated Chapter 5 fiasco...

Yeah, so _this is set during Chapter 2, _and I used some writing/timeline/character liberties to make them work, or else I wouldn't be able to fulfill this request *slamdunks self in trash*. _Spoilers for Komaeda's backstory/free time events, and vague hinting at Chiaki's backstory_

* * *

REQUESTED (by Meisho)

Chiaki Nanami x Nagito Komaeda

(Konami, Konanami, Namaeda)

Pity the Bound

(_Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Nagito Komaeda_ lay on the ground, with only his thoughts for company. He'd spent the last few hours rotating between napping, thinking of his classmates, finding things that were awful about himself, reliving the trauma of his past, and counting certain things in the dusty room.

The door, for example, held 789 small wood engravings in it. No doubt, the number would be at least doubled on the other side of the piece of wood. He'd also counted the number of tiles on the ceiling, that he could see—the number coming out to 89, as the tiles were old-fashioned, and very large.

How long had it been, since he had interacted with the mysterious, hopeful Hinata-kun? How long had it been, since he had anything to eat?

Why, it must have been lunch yesterday, where he had a proper meal. Dinner was held during the party—where only Owari-san and Pekoyama-san ate any of the food that the talented _Ultimate Cook,_ Hanamura-kun, had prepared.

Hanamura-kun. The hopeful individual who wasn't the peak of hopes, who wasn't up to par of Komaeda's fantastical expectations. The poor boy who was executed for Komaeda's bad luck in getting saved by Togami-kun.

The first School Trial was too exciting for Komaeda to eat anything once he had left the courtroom. Even light snacks would have churned his stomach horribly. Then—to his immensely bipolar luck—during the night he got kidnapped, tied up, and thrown in the Old Lodge by Souda-kun and Nidai-kun. (One would think that he wouldn't know who his kidnappers had been, but their voices and accents were very distinct—it wasn't hard for him to discern who had accosted him.)

Then, that morning, _Hajime Hinata_ had came reluctantly to feed him breakfast. However, he only managed to get some water to drink—as the ahoge-haired boy had stormed out of the room once Komaeda started to explain about how wonderful their hope was, how incredible Hinata-kun was, and how vile his very being was. All stemmed from the fresh_ Class Trial_, no doubt.

And if the rest of his hopeful classmates avoided him—for ignorance, relief, or hatred—then he shouldn't expect to be fed at **all**. He was disposable, after all. Just a nuisance. Not even worth the time, energy, or resources to maintain.

Why, he shouldn't expect another visit until…Perhaps next morning? Maybe then, one of the softer students will wonder of him, take pity, and feed him... And they would eventually, he knew. They were such wonderful people, that they would definitely help filth such as him, to show how wonderful and bright they were.

At the thought of his classmates, Komaeda's mood brightened. It seems that he's found something to do: praise his wonderful classmates in his mind. He was just about to start listing the amazing qualities of each classmate, starting with the enigmatic Hinata-kun, when his ears picked up the sound of a disturbance.

His tied-up form perked up, as he forced to stretch his hearing, trying to discern what was happening outside the room that acted as his cell.

He could hear the closing of the creaky, bulky main door of the Old Lodge. A soft padding against the building's hard, yet carpeted, floor. The steps were light and languid—not heavy enough to be a man, so that quickly ruled all his male classmates out. So it **wasn't** Souda-kun or Nidai-kun—who often, nervously, checked up on him to see if he was still detained.

Intrigued and hopeful, Komaeda tried craning his neck to look more properly at the door, trying to stretch his hearing even further. If only he had Mioda-san's exceptional hearing—it would certainly be useful, as shown in the Class Trial.

Just then, the steps faltered. They had sounded close. The white-haired boy contemplated on who it could be, before the door he was staring at opened slowly.

There stood _Chiaki Nanami_, looking soft and serene as ever. Her arrival was a delightful surprise, of course—however, mentally, he always knew that Nanami-san was kind enough to take pity on such lowly vermin as himself.

On the very short list of logical people that Komaeda considered to possibly check up on him at a later time, her name was present. He'd also considered Tsumiki-san and Mioda-san to be kind enough to go looking for him—but he felt as if he truly lucked-out on Nanami-san doing so. Her odd firmness and finesse in the Trial had piqued and held his interest.

Komaeda-kun's eyes shined happily as he looked up at her from his position on the ground, bound and gagged cruelly.

Chiaki felt herself soften, feeling pity and anger at such a sight. No matter his unhinged actions, Komaeda was another Hope's Peak student. He didn't deserve such extreme treatment—especially not when the class should be working together and becoming friends, to face the threat of Monokuma.

Monokuma was already making it hard for them to come together through hope. They didn't need each other turning on one another, and becoming cruel.

"Komaeda-kun…" Chiaki murmured sadly, as she stepped into the room, promptly dropping to her knees in front of him.

Komaeda watched intently as Nanami-san deftly untied the rope that bound his hands behind his back with her soft, small hands. She then skillfully, swiftly took off his gag—which had been re-applied even more harshly and crudely by a paranoid Souda-kun, who had checked up his condition, and had seen that Hinata-kun hadn't put the gag back on.

Nanami-san then took his shoulders, and sat him up, as he made different facial expressions to stretch his muscles and relieve the soreness. He winced slightly as he rubbed at his sore wrists, which were slightly red from rope-rash.

"Why, I hadn't expected anyone other than Souda-kun or Nidai-kun to visit me until tomorrow! How fortunate for me, that my assumption was incorrect," he noted idly, a grin spreading across his face, as he moved his arms to gain the feeling back into them.

Chiaki stayed silent, as she tentatively undid the crude bindings on his legs. She tried composing her response and next actions towards the sickly boy.

"Do you need…To go to the bathroom, before you eat…?" she finally asked, deciding that it was more useful to do something **helpful**, rather than reply to Komaeda's self-deprecating statements.

"Hm?" the boy asked, seemingly taken-aback. He seemed to think it over, whilst stretching his limbs, trying to rid them of the soreness and uncomfortable pinpricks that came when one's limbs fell asleep.

"Well…I haven't properly gone to the bathroom in a while—I suppose I should take care of that, get myself freshened up a bit, before rudely digging into food like a complete slob," he decided, saying his thoughts aloud, as he prepared himself for standing up on wobbly, half-asleep legs.

"Here," Chiaki intoned, as she quickly moved to Komaeda-kun's side, to help him stand. He was much taller than her, so helping him was hard and awkward, but she managed to keep him from falling via his legs giving out. She carefully steered him towards the hallway, towards the small bathroom that Pekoyama-san had occupied during the party yesterday.

Komaeda was leaning heavily against the smaller girl, whilst he walked stiffly. The combined facts that his legs were asleep, he hadn't used them in a full day, he had them held in the same position for so long, he hadn't eaten and barely drunk anything all day, and that his bladder was practically screaming for him to relieve himself, seemed to weigh each step down and make things much harder than normal.

He didn't realize how bad he needed to go until now. He'd held it in for so long, that he chose to ignore the feeling, after it was evident that he wouldn't be allowed to urinate. Ignoring the need, and clenching his thigh muscles, only caused his nether regions to become numb in a concerning manner. Perhaps he should ask Tsumiki-san about the occurrence, in the future; it certainly didn't sound healthy.

"I suppose such a sight that we are currently in would look comical to anyone that happens upon us. I dwarf you in height and length of my limbs," Komaeda noted with a breathy chuckle, as the duo slowly made their way down the hallway, him splayed against her, whilst she tried to keep him from falling.

"Mmmm," Nanami-san uttered, as she still led him towards the bathroom.

"It's a good thing that I'm so thin, then—I don't think you could hold my weight if I were a few kilos more than my current weight. I must be heavy," he babbled on, his eyes brightening as they finally reached the door of the bathroom. "Ah, we're here! Thank you very much for your assistance, Nanami-san."

"…Are you sure you will be okay, Komaeda-kun…?" Chiaki asked after a moment, a concerned frown on her face. Komaeda-kun still looked very weak, after all—like he could collapse at any moment.

"Definitely! My legs seem to have woken up—I am sure that despite their scrawniness, they can bear my bulk," he replied cheerfully. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

With a speed that such a weak boy who barely got the feeling back in his legs **shouldn't** have had, he wrenched open the door, rushed in, closed it—slamming it, really—and then locked said door soundly. In mere seconds, the sound of trickling water could be heard through the door, and Chiaki blinked owlishly.

Right…He was a boy. Relieving oneself was a much quicker process when one had male genitalia.

She had been right with her assumption that he had needed to relieve his bladder urgently. That Souda-kun and Nidai-kun would have been paranoid enough to not allow him to go to the bathroom properly.

Why, it had even fallen to others to feed him—and everyone was wary of the white-haired boy, **especially** because of his actions during the trial and death of two classmates... So he must not have gotten enough to eat, if anything at all, on top of it.

Chiaki zoned out, zoning into her inner thought process and data organization. So much potential for friendships lost, all because of Monokuma showing up…Hope slipping away, all because of the Mutual Killing…Classmates never truly establishing strong bonds with others, before being ripped from this world…The hopeful students partaking in actions that would bring despair… Even leading to the ostracization and imprisoning of a minority of the classmates… Leading to Komaeda-kun becoming unhinged…

Komaeda-kun…

When Chiaki zoned back into her surroundings, Komaeda-kun was standing in front of her, the door of the bathroom wide open. He was smiling down at her—waiting for her slow response, no doubt.

"I'm surprised that you haven't reacted violently to me yet. I'm a threat, and I'm walking out and about, aren't I?" he chirped cheerfully.

Or not. Komaeda-kun's actions were hard to predict.

"I untied you in the first place…"she pointed out, literally pointing her pointer finger upwards. He gave a tinkling laugh in response to her answer. "And… I know you won't hurt me," she stated.

His light eyebrows disappeared under his messy hairline.

"Well, Souda-kun and Nidai-kun certainly don't think so," he offered, an odd glimmer in his eyes. "And when Hinata-kun visited me, I had the impression that he thought a similar thing—that, or that I was simply disgusting. Perhaps a combination of both."

"But you wouldn't…You wouldn't actually hurt us. Because you find us too precious. You hold us in too high regard, to go and attack me, unless it would help someone else," Chiaki said resolutely.

Komaeda-kun seemed to freeze, and she deemed her hypothesis correct. Most of the information that she had gathered from him—mostly, from his hope ramblings and the like, during the Class Trial—told her as much. Even before it was revealed how low and horrid his self-worth and opinion of himself was, he was always self-deprecating, and seemed to keenly enjoy how talented everyone was.

"Not to mention, that you're much too weak to do so, I think... You haven't had anything properly to eat, have you…?" she added, already feeling that she knew the answer.

"Ah, I suppose you're correct, Nanami-san," Komaeda-kun admitted, his usual bright smile firmly back in place. "And you are correct. I was quite happy—no, **joyous**—that you came to check on me, not to even mention being concerned if I'd eaten or not! You are truly too kind for a lunatic freak like me! Why, it's such an **honor**—"

"Komaeda-kun," Nanami-san interjected firmly, causing Komaeda to stop blabbering in slight surprise. She looked up at him seriously, her brow furrowed, the edge of her light-pink lips pulled down in displeasure.

He would do **anything** to get her features to soften once more. She looked wonderful whenever she had a neutral look painted upon her smooth, round face. She looked amazing when her eyes were big and soft, and she was speaking. She looked like the epitome of hope when she was softly smiling her trademarked, heartfelt smile.

"Yes, Nanami-san?" He asked eagerly, ready to please the girl who was compassionate and truly incredible enough to untie him and treat him like any other classmate—despite clearly disliking him, as was evident during the Class Trial, and most likely regretting her merciful actions.

"I think that **now** would be a good time for you to eat, as you've already went to the bathroom," she said logically, her features softening back into neutrality.

"Hm—You're right!" He stated, still with his chipper exposition. "Although it's no surprise that you would be—right, I mean. You're a genius, an Ultimate student, and—"

Again, to his surprise, Nanami-san cut him off.

But not with words. Rather, she'd gone around him and pushed on his back, steering him back towards the room he'd been held captive in.

"Come on. Babbling on won't get any food into you, Komaeda-kun. That can only work in video games," she intoned wisely, as she kept pushing him forwards. Komaeda noted in amusement that her tone sounded a bit exasperated, and that her hands were tiny against the small of his back.

He chuckled. "Very true. You're correct once more, Nanami-san," he said, smiling widely as he opened the door and she still steered him into the room by pushing against his back.

Once in the room, her arms dropped from their previous position on his back. His back felt just a bit colder—despite how preposterous such a notion **was**, as he wore a long coat, and he couldn't **possibly** feel the warm through that—and he waited for her instructions.

"Sit down, please," Chiaki said after a moment. She watched intently as the boy walked a few steps forwards, spun around, and then promptly plopped down on the ground.

"I couldn't help but notice that you didn't have a tray of food with you when you came to see me, Nanami-san," the _Ultimate Lucky Student_ said from his position on the ground, sitting cross-legged.

He also noted idly to himself, one other interesting fact—that if he simply stared straight, he'd have a very pleasant look of Nanami-san's shapely legs, from his position. He would never mention this fact to the girl, of course—it would be incredibly vile, especially for such a disgusting person as him to be noting such things.

"So, if you have no tray…Are you going to go back and bring me a tray? What if I escape? What if my jailors find me untied? What if someone finds you carrying lunch over do the abandoned Old Lodge?" He rattled off, trying to think of various scenarios and possibilities. "Wouldn't you get in trouble? If so—I'm simply not worth it, Nanami-san. I can stand any punishment I receive—why, I've been tied up harshly as if a hostage in a kidnapping—however, I would not forgive myself if you **yourself** get in trouble because of trash like **me**. I'm—"

His rambling—which was starting to become more incomprehensible, anxious, and delirious—was cut off by a bag being dropped in front of him. Nanami-san's cute, pink, kitty drawstring backpack, to be exact.

"I'd brought pre-packaged lunch in my backpack. I got it from the supermarket. It seemed easier to carry this way," Chiaki explained as patiently as possible, trying to stop her gut from constricting so ferociously from the boy's semi-lucid rant.

"I hope you don't mind," she added, tilting her head, trying to work out her next plan of action.

"Absolutely not!" Komaeda replied readily, his broad grin brightening at the mention of hope. Before he could move towards the bag, it seems that she resolutely decided something. She'd begun moving.

Nanami-san lowered herself, and sat down—but not in a way Komaeda expected. He'd expected her to sit down with her legs joined off to the side. Rather, she sat down with her knees drawn in front of her, before shifting and sitting cross-legged just like him.

It was rather improper, too casual, and not very feminine. It also wasn't appropriate for someone who wore a skirt, much less a high-rise one like Nanami-san did. The ends of her skirt rode up high upon her thighs, showing much more pale skin than he'd seen from her, the black of her stockings sitting starkly against the milky skin.

He swore that he had seen a flash of pink and polka dots when she'd crossed her legs, but he couldn't bring himself to stare at the spot to double-check.

"I know the bag looks small…But it **does** hold quite a bit, I think," Nanami-san suddenly said, in way of an explanation. Komaeda belatedly noted that perhaps it looked as if he was staring intently at the bag, rather than at her…assets.

He thanked his lucky stars, as it would be much too embarrassing to explain his dirty, trashy gaze. His gaze didn't **deserve** to be blessed with Nanami-san's thighs or panties! Really, he was worse than the average hormone-riddled boy back at his middle school!

As Komaeda-kun's cheeks tinged pink, Chiaki grinned slightly at him, and opened the pack. She started unpacking the kitty backpack.

Out came a package of plastic-wrapped onigiri, container of mixed fruits, bottle of orange juice, container of chicken salad, bag of his favorite type of potato chips, a square snack-lunch that was popular with Western children, a bottle of water, a set of basic plastic cutlery, and napkins. Instantly, she handed the bottle of water to Komaeda-kun, who took it and drank greedily.

After downing almost the entire bottle, he signed in contentment.

"I truly am grateful for all that you have done, and are doing for me, Nanami-san. You are like a merciful goddess among the despairing, cruel world we are in. Despicable, useless people like me don't deserve such wonderful treatment—"

Suddenly, Chiaki shoved an onigiri in his mouth, to muffle the stream of word-barf the messy-haired youth was emitting.

Komaeda-kun, to his credit, took the action in stride. He dutifully ate the rice ball, tearing ferociously into it.

He'd only properly remembered how utterly famished he was, when the food touched his mouth. The thought of being fed and the sight of the food had only caused a constriction in his stomach—but actually **eating** it had caused his stomach to roar.

"You need to eat, Komaeda-kun," Nanami-san stated firmly.

"Thank you," he said, after finishing the rice ball. He then clapped his hands together, bowed his head, and exclaimed a '_thank you for the food!_' before he picked up the salad and plastic fork, and tore into the new dish.

"Also…" she went on slowly, as he scarfed down the food like an atypical teenage boy. "I came here to help you…Not to listen to you put yourself down so much, and neglect your needs while I'm trying to help you."

Komaeda paused mid-bite. The look in the girl's eyes was the most intense he'd ever seen from her outside of a life-or-death situation, like the Class Trial.

"You are our classmate, Komaeda-kun…And I just want everyone of us to get along," Chiaki said, with as much seriousness and conviction as possible. Getting along, becoming friends, getting off the island…That was all she wanted.

And ultimately, that's why she was putting up with Komaeda-kun and his problematic quirks—for both his well-being, and the good of **everyone**.

Komaeda-kun, for once, decided not to say anything. Either that, or he did not know **what** to say. All he did was give a subtle grin, as he picked up his bottle of water to take a drink, hiding part of his expression with the motion.

She couldn't help but give a soft, small grin of her own. That grin he showed—it was small, yes, but it somehow seemed to be more genuine than his usual cheerful demeanor and wide smile.

It seemed…Bemused? Bashful? Touched? Contemplative? It was hard to link a word to that particular emotion. The closest example Chiaki could link from any of the information that she knew, to Komaeda-kun's fleeting expression, was that his smile was as oddly mysterious as the one worn by The Mona Lisa. It could be interpreted in many ways, having no concrete meaning—but real and very genuine, all the same.

After Komaeda-kun scarfed down the majority of the food that she packed, he gave a bright smile. "Thank you very much for everything, Nanami-san!"

"You're welcome, Komaeda-kun," she replied, giving the delusional boy a soft look.

"However, I believe that you should restrain me once more," he stated. The girl blinked in shock, her eyes wide. "The others still believe me a threat."

The corners of Chiaki's mouth lowered, as she frowned in concern at the boy. She felt overwhelming pity for him. No matter his actions, he did not deserve to be treated in such a way. It was something…only dangerous, terrible, terrorists did… Not young, hopeful classmates, who represented the hope of the world…

"I don't mind—really! Besides, I'd rather not cause Souda-kun and Nidai-kun to panic, if they see me without my bindings," Komaeda explained, thinking back to when Hinata-kun left him without his gag on, and how frantic Souda-kun had acted. "And I'll be fine, as long as someone as compassionate as you comes by to check up on me every once in a while! If it's for the benefit and comfort of the group, then I'll do it."

"Komaeda-kun…" Nanami-san muttered quietly, her pity obviously displayed in her expression. She seemed to take a few seconds to respond—most likely having an inner debate—before she slowly nodded her head.

Komaeda lay down, trying to get comfortable, as Nanami-san went through the process of re-tying him back up. He fought down his natural reaction to panic at getting tied up with rope, vivid flashbacks of the time when he got kidnapped rushing violently before his eyes. He breathed deeply, slowly, calmly—trying to keep his composure.

He managed to stay relatively still and calm through the ordeal. Nanami-san's presence was naturally comforting, it seemed—that, or her soft handling and touching helped remind him that he **wasn't** in the past.

As she gagged his mouth, with a heavy heart, Chiaki spoke once more to reassure him. "I made your bindings more slack, so they wouldn't hurt you as badly. I'll be back for dinner, unless someone else comes to feed you. Sorry…" she said softly.

Komaeda-kun nodded, his eyes crinkling in what she assumed was an understanding, positive manner.

The girl stood, staring at him with an odd mixture of emotions, before picking up her backpack from the ground. She slung the bag over her shoulders, and then promptly walked out of the room.

As she closed the door behind her, Chiaki couldn't help but linger at the door. The sight of the boy being bound, on the ground, was burned in her memory.

As she closed the door behind her, Komaeda felt as if he wasn't bound anymore.

It was a truly odd feeling, he decided. But he felt like he was bound no longer, despite the ropes securely around his wrists and ankles.

* * *

When _Mahiru Koizumi's_ body was found in the beach house, and the investigation of her murder was well under way, a certain person's help came as a surprise.

Nagito Komaeda was there.

Chiaki was taken aback. She was trying to consider who, exactly, had been kind enough to go over there and untie him.

She could only think of herself doing such a thing—but she'd been at the girl's beach party, and then dived right in into the investigation of Koizumi-san's gruesome murder. She didn't have the time to go and untie Komaeda-kun, and inform him of the situation.

An obvious question was asked: _How did he get out?_ She doesn't remember if she herself asked, or if it was Hinata-kun—but Komaeda-kun explained that Monokuma untied him and let him out of the Old Lodge to help investigate.

He looked deliriously happy, being free of his bindings. Even more so than when she first did so for him, so he could walk for the first time since being kept under scrutiny.

She couldn't let him distract her, however. A friend just died, and they had to catch her murderer. There were too many conflicting clues in play. They needed more evidence.

However, whilst the investigation raged on, Komaeda-kun had come up and discreetly whispered in her ear.

"I don't think I'd have the energy to help if not for you, Nanami-san. Thank you for making unbinding me."

He went off before she could formulate a response. But she knew one thing: it was the right decision, to help him. To pity the bound.

Now, she had to concentrate on helping the students of_ Hope's Peak Academy_. They would definitely need her help.


	18. Troublemakers and Hot Dads

**AN**: I can't believe I didn't use my weekend to properly write this, and instead wrote on a school day. RIP my sanity, bury me in trash

Anyways, I had Leon x Jin as a request...And it was just so damn cracky, that my fingers exploded across the keyboard. Anything with Jin Kirigiri in it is written pretty quickly- which is good, since the man needs more love and fics!

Notes: Jin's secretary is Beta!Fukawa. And those weird Ultimates (-you'll know which ones they are, when you get to that part-) are just random ones I imagined. They're not cannon. Let your imagination run wild.

* * *

REQUESTED by callingGalaxy

Leon Kuwata x Jin Kirigiri

(LeonJin, Jineon)

Troublemakers and Hot Dads

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Jin Kirigiri_ sighed deeply, rubbing his temples, as he stared at the form in his hands.

The form itself was very meticulous and long. However, having been Headmaster for such a prestigious Academy for years now, Jin was adept at being able to quickly summarize any form of paperwork. It helped keep his sanity—if he didn't have this skill, he'd have many more migraines, many more secretaries, and would not have lasted as long as he has.

The gist of said form was that one _Ultimate Baseball Star_, _Leon Kuwata_, had broken the number of detentions permitted for light reprimanding. The next time the boy had a disciplinary issue, he had to report to **his** office for a final, firm warning. All part of protocol.

Jin couldn't help but be, well, **annoyed** at this news. He loved all his students with all his heart—always has, since he was first appointed Headmaster—however this boy really did push it. He was a large troublemaker—causing even more trouble and getting in more detentions than the _Ultimate Biker_, who was literally a Grade-A delinquent.

"Knowing my luck, he's going to get dragged into my office this very day," the man muttered to himself, feeling peeved.

Even his daughter—_Kyoko Kirigiri_, who utterly **despised** Jin for leaving her in the care of her grandfather when she was a child, and no longer considered him family—would become irate and speak with him over the irksome punk boy. The boy was just too **wild** for any other place than in a crowd, at a concert, or on a stage.

The buzzer to his office suddenly crackled to life, his secretary's harried, jittery voice filtering into the room.

"_Headmaster, a Leon Kuwata is here to be reprimanded. He has a pink form with him, issued by Doctor Kuroi._"

Jin closed his eyes in pure and utter dread, cursing under his breath in English. It sounded something along the lines of, "_God_ _fucking damn it, you piss-ass little shit_"—although only someone **fluent** in the language would know if the man's low mumblings were **truly** that crass. To any Japanese person, it just sounded like a bunch of Western jibberish.

"Just my luck," Jin sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face, before flipping a panel on his large mahogany desk. He pressed a button to answer his secretary's worries.

"Thank you for informing me, Miss Tousaka. Please enter," he spoke into the small microphone on the panel, keeping his voice professional. He pressed a button to unlock his side of the door, before his secretary fumbled with the knob.

Soon, the door was opened by his secretary Fukiko Tousaka—a woman who was a former alumni at _Hope's Peak_, as the _Ultimate Secretary_, and who worked for Jin when she wasn't working for certain Prime Ministers. She looked nervous, her eyes flitting behind her constantly, at the bored boy who stood languidly at the doorway.

She stood aside skittishly, to allow the boy to enter. He did so—strolling in rather than walking normally— his usual firey mane of hair bright and prominent in the muted, professional quarters of The Headmaster's Office.

His secretary closed the door behind the boy, leaving him to simply look around the room in interest.

"Please—take a seat, Kuwata-kun," Jin offered, using a calm, yet fatherly, voice.

Jin always tried to be rather comforting and warm to his students, so that he wouldn't intimidate them. He often used his 'Headmaster Voice', as he called it, for more serious matters—ones usually involving the meddling _School Counsel_, who he often had to fight tooth and nail, so they wouldn't completely turn Hope's Peak into one large experiment.

Although he wished to whip Kuwata into shape, the boy's petty troublemaking wasn't serious enough to make Jin use his 'Headmaster Voice'.

Leon Kuwata took his sweet time to walk over to the chair across the Headmaster's desk, looking around the room with only mild interest. He finally sat down, fiddling with the piercings on one of his ears—the only sign he was showing that he was nervous.

"I was just reading over your files, Kuwata-kun, before you were led to my office," Jin started conversationally, as he moved the boy's forms into his labeled folder, and put that off to the side. "And I already know why you're here."

Kuwata sagged in the chair, face forming into a pout. "Yeah, yeah—too many detentions."

"Exactly," Jin stated, gritting his teeth slightly at the disrespectful tone the boy used. "You getting into trouble so **frequently** is becoming a major problem, Kuwata-kun. It's gotten so bad, that you've had to be thrown into my office to be reprimanded."

Jin raised an eyebrow, staring down the boy, who stared back defiantly. The boy lasted a few seconds, before he shifted his eyes away first, an exaggerated pout on his face.

"S'not my fault that classes are so boring," the boy huffed. "If my parents hadn't made me go to high school—and then I'd gotten an invite to Hope's Peak—I would've quit at middle school. School's not my thing, as you probly guessed."

The boy ruffled his hair, looking at a corner of Jin's desk—the exact place where his stuffed file lay innocently against the dark wood.

Jin could only sigh. He'd gotten a few students who had a similar attitude, or said similar things, as Kuwata. It's a wonder that _Mondo Owada_ and _Yasuhiro Hagakure_ from the Freshman class hadn't been in his office, and said similar words to him yet.

"Kuwata-kun, for most people, success simply isn't _given_. You're here for your talent in baseball—however, that isn't what you want to do, is it?" Jin started, his eyes boring into Kuwata's.

"Hell no!" the boy exclaimed, bristling.

"Of course not. You want to work with music," Jin nodded, causing the boy to relax once more. "However, if you want to make a name for yourself, of your _own merits_, you have to **work** for it. The first step is doing well in school and **graduating** Hope's Peak. And that can't happen if you're held back for disciplinary issues."

Jin gave the lion-haired boy a comforting smile, hoping that his lecture did **something** within the boy. All the wise advice in the world couldn't help a knuckleheaded kid who didn't want to listen, or try applying said advice.

The boy, however, crossed his arms, seemingly deep in thought. Good, it looked like he was at least **attempting** to mull it over.

No doubt that a similar lecture had been given to him by various teachers, and his fellow classmate, the _Ultimate Prefect_. And no doubt that the boy blocked out each and every single one.

Hopefully, Jin managed to finally break through and shove the message in the boy's head.

"Well, it's easier said than done, Headmaster Hot-Dad. But I **guess** I could try getting less detentions—they mess up with my down time anyways," Kuwata piped up, giving a lopsided grin as he scratched the back of his head.

Jin relaxed into his plush chair, relieved that he managed to do what he intended to, on the first try. Some students were more stubborn than others, and—

Wait. Did Kuwata just call him 'Headmaster Hot-Dad'?

Jin couldn't help but stare, mouth slightly agape, at the punkish boy.

"Kuwata-kun…What did you call me just now?" Jin asked weakly, feeling the thrum of his headache slowly leech back into his temples.

"Headmaster Hot-Dad?" Leon asked cheekily, smirking slightly at the man's expression. He was glad that the man noticed—because Leon **always** called his teachers by irritating nicknames.

He called Mr. Kuroi Mr. Blacky, which annoyed the man so much that he'd finally given him a pink slip to see the Headmaster, after the cheeky shit he pulled that day.

Leon waited, smirk still in place, for the Headmaster to react. The nickname was actually a popular one for Jin Kirigiri—but **he** must be the first one to ever say it to the man's face.

"What…I…Why," Jin stumbled over his words, incredibly confused. "That…Doesn't make any sense," he ended weakly.

Kuwata's eyebrows rose up to his hairline. "Wait, it **doesn't**?!" he asked, taken aback.

"I…No, it really doesn't," Jin stated. "Can you please explain the nickname to me, Kuwata-kun?"

"Er…" Leon mumbled, feeling panicky and awkward. This wasn't the reaction he had been looking for. And now he had to explain the nickname and it's origins to his Headmaster—a man in his late thirties, who was the father of one of his classmates.

"Well—it's 'cuz you're the Headmaster, but you're also a dad, and hot," he explained slowly. His eyes widened, as he realized just how exactly his lame explanation sounded.

"Not that **I** think you're hot or anything," Leon quickly added, before he noted how unflattering his cover-up sounded. "I mean—er, you're attractive and stuff, sir. But I don't think you're hot…" the boy floundered, trying to cut off the awkward-sounding blabbering that was **super** un-cool.

"No homo, sir," Leon finally added, tacking on the excuse in vain.

God, that was a train wreck. And sounded wrong, on **so** many levels.

Jin's eyebrows rose up high on his forehead. That was a very…Befuddling explanation, that didn't really explain much at all.

All it sounded like was that Kuwata-kun found him attractive. Which was odd and wrong on **so** many levels—his daughter was his classmate, for Kami's sake!

"Sure…No homo," Jin repeated wearily, noting that he should look up that slang later. Kids these days, with their weird sayings…And did kids really say such homophobic things in everyday conversation?

Being homosexual wasn't **bad**. Some of his past students were rather odd, quirky, and definitely not heterosexual. And as the Headmaster of this institution, it was his duty to make all of his students feel welcome—so he made sure to not discriminate on gender, sexuality, race, nationality, looks, etcetera.

Why, last graduating class had an _Ultimate Gay Pirate_, which had properly pissed off the old, conservative geezers in the School Counsel. Long story short, the homosexual boy played a gay pirate in various media, and the classes above him had all possible titles taken that he could've been given (like the _Ultimate Actor, Ultimate Face Character, Ultimate Protagonist_, and _Ultimate Sailor_) so he was simply given a title to match what he became famous for.

No, back to the **real** subject at hand here…!

"…Kuwata-kun, that explanation **still** didn't explain the odd title you gave me," Jin said, after a mental shake of his head.

"It's hard to explain something that you didn't make up, man! Blame, like, the half of the school that calls you that," Leon grumbled, his face red, as he looked at the windows behind the man's desk. He'd **never** have this type of conversation with any educational authority **again**, he decided resolutely. It was too mortifying.

"Half the school calls me 'Headmaster Hot-Dad'?" said man questioned, his voice slightly constricted.

"Yeah. They say that you're too hot to be a Headmaster or a dad. You're **so** hot, that you've turned straight guys gay—or at least bi-curious," the boy said, shrugging his shoulders, finally explaining himself properly. "You still look like you're a college student or something, so maybe that's why."

"I never knew…" Jin murmured, his voice unable to hide his awe. Under the disturbing implications of teenagers thinking him attractive, when he was literally old enough to be their father…Was an odd sense of flattery.

He'd never considered himself attractive—only professional. And as the years wore on, he didn't **feel** very young. He was always very busy, very stressed, and was mostly in the company of those older than him.

Ever since his wife died, he'd shut out such trivial things as attractiveness and feeling young—because he knew that he could never find another partner, and never love again. He spent all his time, energy, hope, and love on Hope's Peak, and the students who resided in its walls.

He could see when others were aesthetically, or considered attractive. He could appreciate beauty. He just never expected so many people to consider **him** in such a way…

"Is it, like, some Kirigiri family thing?" a voice asked, suddenly snapping the man out of his thoughts. He'd almost forgotten than Kuwata-kun was sitting right in front of him, watching his every move.

"Huh?" Jin asked, blinking dumbly.

"Like, is it in the Kirigiri genes or something, to be really hot? Cuz your daughter's pretty damn smokin', not gonna lie," the boy said, a cocky smirk in place.

That was his daughter he was talking about…! The little—

Jin gave Kuwata a sharp, warning glare, which the boy responded by putting his hands up in a surrender position.

"Whoa there, Headmaster Hot-Dad," the redhead said, with a fake worried voice, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Just pointing out the obvious. We're only friends—I promise. 'Sides, it's not like she'd ever give me the time of day anyway."

Jin gave a curt nod of his head, his gaze on the punk, still suspicious. He knew what he boy said was true—Kyoko coming to him to complain about Kuwata was proof enough, really. But still, he couldn't help but feel protective over his little girl…

"Actually," Leon started, with a drawl. "I can kinda see it. You look pretty damn cool, Headmaster Hot-Dad, when you're all serious like that. You should turn that swag down, though, or else you'll get one more fan to your little fawning fan club."

Leon gave a wink to the man, who stared wide-eyed at him. He seemed to finally be pushing the right buttons on getting him to fume—his face was turning red, and he had already glared pretty harshly at him before, when he mentioned how hot Kyoko was.

"Fan…Club?" the man responded weakly, looking as if he swallowed a disgusting, sludge-like drink.

"Hell, I bet Kyoko-chan can turn girls gay. It's a Kirigiri thing, right?" Leon added tauntingly, trying to egg the man further, before he suddenly furrowed his brow. "She hangs out with a lot of chicks, anyways…Especially Sayaka…" his eyes widened to the size of plates at this thought. "Shit, she hangs out with Sayaka as much as she does Naegi! No, probably because of girl stuff, she hands out with her **more**! Oh shit—"

Jin watched as the blood rushed out of Kuwata's face. The boy looked rather blue in the face, his expression one of horror.

"Is **that** why Sayaka doesn't want to go out with me?! Because Kyoko's turned her gay?!" the teen yelped, looking like someone told him that everything remotely related to music in the city was destroyed.

Jin felt himself sweatdrop at the boy. The conversation had strayed a long ways, to be on the subject of speculation on his daughter's ability to romantically attract the opposite sex.

"Kuwata-kun…I think we're done here," Jin stated warily, standing up from his desk. He went around, putting a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, and led him towards the door of his office.

"I hope that you aren't sent to my office for further disciplinary issues. If you have any other questions or concerns, please come to me," the man said in his professional voice, still trying to be soothing. But all he could really hope was for Kuwata to be out of his office to angst his problems out, and that he wouldn't return with more speculation and worries over his daughter and _Sayaka Maizono_ being lesbians.

Kuwata finally snapped out of his self-inflicted spiral of panic, whilst Jin reached out for the doorknob.

"Right…Dunno if I can promise that, so expect me later, Headmaster Hot-Dad," the boy said, a twinkle back in his eyes, as his mouth transformed into a smirk.

The boy exited his office, running off and laughing, throwing up the horns. Miss Tousaka gave a jump at her desk, a small yelp passing her lips at the suddenness and loudness of Leon Kuwata's exit.

Jin shook his head—the boy was the same as ever.

Oh well. It's not like **one** meeting would change the teen, even if it was with the Headmaster of _Hope's Peak Academy_. You can't win them all.

Jin told his secretary to hold any calls and messages for him for at least twenty minutes, so he could take a break. He closed and locked the door to his office, sighing heavily, and lumbered back to his desk.

He rubbed his temples as he sank into his comfortable chair, already praying for his sanity for the future, when Leon Kuwata would show up again in his office.

"I already have enough teenagers fawning over me. I don't need a punk in the mix, too," he muttered to himself, as he downed an aspirin and a shot of cider for occasions like this.

Hopefully, _Junko Enoshima_ never catches wind of what happened in his office just now, and decides to call him Headmaster Hot-Dad to his face. That would just be his luck.


	19. Commanding and Following

**AN**: So I wrote this while I had time during school, ayyyyyy my time management and prioritizing skills are as tip-top as ever, haha.

I'm sorry if the requester originally wanted something fluffy, but my first thoughts were 'this could totally fit Despair-verse', so here we are. At Sea World. Thanks, Hinata-kun.

* * *

REQUESTED (by ace1217 on AO3)

Mukuro Ikusaba x Sonia Nevermind

(Ikusonia, Soniakuro, Sonkusaba)

Commanding and Following

(_Ultimate Despair_)

* * *

_Mukuro Ikusaba_ watches as the country of _Novoselic _falls into utter _Despair_.

She watches as the people start to riot. Watches as anarchy reigns across the land. Watches as mobs are formed, armed with fire and metal and channeling power of mass destruction.

She watches as fires start, and watches as they spread. Watches as the entire country seems to be engulfed in flames.

She watches as the Queen takes the throne. Watches as the woman captivates her country, ordering them with finesse. Watches the mesmerizing sight of the Queen causing her nation to fall into utter Despair. She watches as the blonde orders her people to take up arms, to start a war, to start a revolution of Despair upon the **world**.

It's a hauntingly beautiful sight, Mukuro thinks, as she watches all of this unfold. Junko thinks so as well. However, Junko is far more enthusiastic, raving on how **ravishing** the Despair is—while Mukuro simply takes it all in, in total silence.

_Sonia Nevermind_ is a deadly tyrant—in power, beauty, mind, and soul—a perfect personification of such ideals.

And then, suddenly, there she is—standing right in front of Mukuro and Junko, calling them to join her at her throne. Her voice is a captivating siren's song, at least half as mesmerizing as Junko's voice, which is no small feat. Junko moves swiftly, and Mukuro follows her little sister readily, like she always has.

They are now up upon the lavish throne. Sonia-san asks Junko if she likes the renovations—which Junko readily agrees, naturally, cackling in delight. Then Junko pats the Queen on the head, as if she's a proud mother who has seen her daughter do a spectacular project for the community, congratulating her on a job well done.

Mukuro's gut sinks at the sight, at the attention that Junko is slathering upon the other girl. But she stays stoic, not daring to show any emotion.

Junko then flicks her wrist at Mukuro. "Muku-chan, help Sonia-chan with the Despair here. I don't need you back at home. You'll be less useless here."

Mukuro's heart constricts, wobbles, and does a back flip, before suddenly plummeting and smashing brutally into small pieces. She gapes at her twin. She can't believe her ears, can't process the order of leaving her little sister unprotected.

"J-Junko..." Mukuro mutters, her features stuck in that of complete and utter shock.

Junko giggles readily, smiling at her sister. "See? It's the best option! You're already readily falling in Despair of leaving your precious little sister all alone!"

Mukuro sags under the weight of Despair, and nods her head slowly. _Junko Enoshima_'s smile widens, as well as Sonia Nevermind's. Both of their faces are alight in joy, born from Despair. It is a beautiful, breathtaking combination.

"How dreadfully delightful!" Sonia-san chirps, clapping her hands in enthusiasm.

"It is, isn't it? It's the only use my dear, disappointing older sister is for, I'm afraid._ Upupupu, puhuhuhu_!" Junko notes, eyes boring into Mukuro's, making the plain girl shrink back.

"So sit, stay, and follow Sonia-chan's orders, alright?" Junko hums, her voice as soft as velvet, as she pats her sister on the top of the head, like she would to a dying dog. "Be a good little bitch, okay, sis?"

"Y-Yes, Junko," Mukuro mutters weakly, feeling overwhelming dread at the order. But she doesn't question it. Junko knows best, after all; and Junko always gets her way.

Before she can process it, Junko's already flouncing away, leaving her twin—her ultimate ally, her ultimate weapon, her ultimate _protector_—in the hands of another girl. Mukuro can't help but feel abandoned, especially when Junko yells back at her, "You're used to being alone in Europe, so you should be fine!"

Guilt overwhelms the Soldier. Junko's right. Mukuro abandoned her family years ago, to be alone in Europe. Abandoned them to follow her wild dreams, to become a soldier.

This would be no different.

She just has a new commander, now.

At that thought, Mukuro slowly turns to Sonia Nevermind, standing at attention. She's ramrod straight, so tense and taught that she feels like she could snap and break into useless pieces, as she awaits for her orders.

Junko left her to Sonia-san, after all. Junko **explicitly** stated that Mukuro was to follow Sonia-san's orders, now.

Sonia Nevermind was now her commander, her Queen, her leader, her life, her **everything**. Until Junko took Mukuro back—which there wasn't any guarantee, as Junko always reminded her that she was a disappointing sister _worth less than nothing_—Mukuro would give her allegiance to Sonia-san. Would give her **life** for her, if that's what it came down to.

Mukuro Ikusaba was now Sonia Nevermind's Soldier, protector, tool, slave, and whatever else was asked of her.

As if being able to read her thoughts, Sonia's smile widened, turning shark-like. Her intense gaze scrutinized her new soldier, causing the girl in question to twitch.

"I always wondered about you, Ikusaba-san," Sonia hummed blithely.

Ikusaba-san's eyes widened, but she didn't dare speak. Sonia appreciated this—after all, a soldier who speaks out of turn is a liability. And Ikusaba is a pristine soldier.

"It's only natural for the Princess of a militaristic monarchy to wonder about soldiers and warfare, I suppose. However, my interest did not just encompass the power and troops of my country," Sonia went on. "No, I was interested in other powerhouse military powers. And one just so happened to have an alliance with Novoselic. One mercenary group, where each soldier had the strength of a hundred men."

"Hmmmmm. Now, which group do you think that is, Ikusaba-san...?" Sonia-san asked, voice as sweet as honey, obviously patronizing and stringing along her new soldier.

"_Fenrir_," Mukuro stated curtly, giving a miniscule twitch.

"Yes, exactly. Fenrir," Sonia-san stated, her smile wide and predatory. "The group that **you** were part of, were you not? The group that trained you for **years**, helping you achieve your title of _Ultimate Soldier_, is that correct? The group that marked you as their own with their emblem, on your hand, Ikusaba-san?"

"Yes," Mukuro stated, her entire body tense, her blood pounding and rushing loudly through her like a tsunami.

"And I have always idolized Fenrir. Such a wonderfully powerful group of mercenaries. Any Princess's dream, really," Sonia stated, a giggle bubbling past her lips. "And **you**...**You** were a part of that group."

"Ever since we were in school, I couldn't take my attention off of you, Ikusaba-san. You were the Ultimate Soldier, someone who encompassed all the ideals of my country," Sonia confessed, looking at the girl with admiration and lust. "You were what I dreamed of having, when I ruled as Queen. And here you are...Given to me by a wonderfully generous Junko-chan."

Mukuro's heart leaped in her chest, as Sonia softly caressed her hair with such affection and tenderness, that it almost seemed as if Sonia Nevermind never fell into Despair.

"I finally have you. You're now my personal soldier..." Sonia-san said, giving a soft, deranged smile. "One who could be ripped out of my grasp at any moment. How wonderful...How poetic..."

Mukuro felt heat resonate throughout her entire being. Her face felt like it was on fire. She could only watch the Queen with wide eyes, as her angelic face got closer and closer to her own.

Mukuro couldn't help but feel that she was in a dream. Or perhaps she was dead, somehow getting a glimpse of heaven, before she was grasped by the arms of the damned and dragged down into Hell. She certainly felt hot enough to be in Hell.

All the emotions she was feeling...It was overwhelming her. She was going into sensory overload. She's never had such potent despair, such potent admiration, showered on her from one single source. It was like a fusion of Junko dunking her in a sea of Despair, and Naegi-kun wrapping her in a blanket of lovely Hope.

"Will you follow your Queen's orders, Soldier?" Sonia-san asked, her voice hypnotic, warm and smooth.

"Yes, ma'am," Mukuro said breathlessly, her breath hitching as Sonia-san cupped her cheek and leaned ever closer.

The seconds stretched on, as the blonde's face got closer and closer. Mukuro had the overwhelming urge to **do** something—her mind was screaming at her frantically. She wanted to fight, to flee, to_ close her eyes and_—

"Will you die for me, Soldier?" Sonia-san suddenly asked, whispering in her ear, her breath hot. Mukuro was trembling, face as hot as the sun, as she tried to control her breathing.

She was spiraling out of control. She felt dizzy, weak, elated, scared, attracted—she felt an overwhelming cyclone of things.

And, for a few seconds, she had wanted to **kiss** Sonia-san, or to **be** kissed by her.

It was terrifying.

Mukuro had to take a few moments to try and orienting herself, to try and show that she **wasn**'t spiraling out of control, to show her new Commander that she understood.

"Yes," Mukuro uttered weakly, in a quavering voice.

The seconds stretched on, and Mukuro still felt the heat resonate within her. Then suddenly...She felt something soft and warm against her cheek, and belatedly realized that they were **lips**.

Sonia Nevermind was kissing her.

Sonia Nevermind, Queen of Novoselic, Princess of Despair, her new Commander...Was kissing her.

It was over all too soon, however. Mukuro was too surprised to truly process it, as Sonia-san withdrew her head.

"I'll do the commanding, and you'll do the following, my Ultimate Soldier," the Queen said, her voice low and lyrical.

"Of course," Mukuro stated quickly, wanting to please the blonde. Wanting to be touched and soothed, wanting to get affection from **someone**, because she never truly received it.

Sonia-san gave her a dangerous, wide grin, her voice looking like an angel of death.

"My first task for you—my first command—is...That you help me strike down all that oppose me," Sonia-san said, the serenity of her voice masking the utter terrifying, chilling notion behind it.

"Yes, Queen Nevermind," Mukuro said resolutely, getting down on one knee—because it just seemed appropriate and **right** to do so.

"Then follow me, Soldier," Sonia Nevermind told the twin, giving a salute. The girl stood back up at attention, saluting back, and following her orders— always just a step behind the Queen.

* * *

Mukuro Ikusaba watches as every single citizen of Novoselic falls into Despair.

She watches as the opposition start to riot, and watches as their bodies hit the ground, dead. Watches as anarchy reigns across the land, overwhelming and crushing any Hope within, and how both she and the Queen lead the masses. Watches as mobs are formed, armed with fire and metal and channeling power of mass destruction, to take down the last dregs of Hope are finally destroyed.

She watches as fires start, and watches as they spread. Watches as the entire country seems to be engulfed in flames, the cries of the hopeful shrieking along with the merry crackling of the fire, and die along with the ashes and flames.

Mukuro Ikusaba watches as she follows and serves the Queen to bring Despair upon Europe.


	20. Late Showers

**AN**: So I was inspired to write this during class, which was awkward. But I had an hour-long break afterwards, so I went to the library to typed half of this up.

Honestly, I should be working on the 2 essays and art project that's due Monday instead of this, but... *sweats* I love naegiri too much. It's one of my ultimate OTPs. It also explains why I'm updating so quickly, ahaha

This started out as being fluffy and kinda started getting heated, then kinda funny/fluffy at the end. Not sure how to explain how it happened, it just did. It's kinda like an RP I had forever ago- it was fluffy, then hot as a tamale, and then fluffy once more bc I was Naegi and Naegi is a fluffy hopeful dork. OKAY, ENOUGH OF MY RAMBLING *flees*

* * *

REQUESTED (by anonymous184 on AO3)

Makoto Naegi x Kyoko Kirigiri

(Naegiri, Makyoko, Kyokomakoto)

Late Showers

(_Post Game_)

* * *

_Kyoko Kirigiri_ woke up in an intimate position. With a face buried in the back of her neck, their hot, rhythmical breaths ghosting across her skin... A body pressed flush against her back, their leg intertwining with hers... And an arm slung over her, hand on her stomach, holding her close.

Kyoko stiffened for a second, before promptly relaxing, realizing who was with her.

No matter how many times she woke in such a comfortable, **safe** position as this, she **always** stiffened. It was just her natural reaction, a defense mechanism of sorts. She'd rarely been so close with someone—mentally, emotionally, and **physically**. Her body's natural reaction to the wonderful, overwhelming, encompassing feeling of a body wrapped so closely around hers was to stiffen in alarm.

She wished she didn't react like that. They've been close for a very long time. Why, they've been sleeping in the same bed for _months_. And she was incredibly attached, incredibly fond, of her partner. Finding their bodies so close, so intertwined, wasn't new or rare.

The face against her neck shifted, nose moving and burying itself against the smooth curve of where her shoulder and neck met. An unintelligent mumble fell from her companion's lips, their lips brushing against her shoulder, causing her to give a small, pleasant sigh.

She stayed relaxed in her position, not wanting to wake him up, despite having the intense urge of turning around to watch his adorable face.

He suddenly gave a sigh, stirring from his slumber.

"Mmmm...Kyoko, wha' time is'it...?" _Makoto Naegi_ slurred sleepily from behind her, as his hand roamed her body.

The girl in question moved her hand to intertwine with his, knowing that doing so was the sleepy boy's goal. He always did this—ask what time it was, and then thread his fingers through hers. It was comforting—both in affection, and in habit.

"It's seven forty five," Kyoko answered, after noting the time on the alarm clock that sat perched on the dresser.

Makoto gave a tired groan, burying his face in the back on her neck once more, arm around her midsection tightening.

"Don' wanna wake up," he mumbled into her skin, causing her to chuckle.

"We have to be at the Foundation at nine, Makoto," she reminded him softly.

"S'too nice to get up," Makoto retorted, loving how he could hold her close when they were alone, in their bed. The warmth and smoothness Kyoko possessed was too wonderful to give up for harsh work. Everything about her was alluring and soothing, always making it a tough decision between what he **needed** to do, and what he **wanted** to do.

"Makoto, if you don't get up, we can't make and eat breakfast," Kyoko said, her voice as melodic as ever.

"We c'n jus' get donuts," Makoto countered, burying his face in her smooth, lilac hair. He inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo, enjoying how her curtain of hair was always the silky consistency of velvet.

Kyoko internally chuckled. _Aoi Asahina_ was definitely rubbing off on everyone in their little group.

Everyone—even _Byakuya Togami_—had become partial to take-out and convenience foods because of the chipper girl. It was also because of the necessity of running around constantly, with all the work they had to do for the _Future Foundation_, only having time to nip something to eat whilst on the move.

But every member of the Survivors group made sure to always have donuts on-hand for Hina, and to especially bring extras if they ever decided to eat any.

Kyoko hummed, trying to find a way to wake the ahoge-haired boy up sufficiently. She's given into his whims far too many times, letting them lay in bed a few minutes longer than necessary, at least two-thirds of the time. She enjoyed the closeness of their bodies, whilst they lay in their bed, **way** too much.

"If I can't leave the bed, Makoto, then time will drag on...And we'll be forced to take our morning showers together," Kyoko voiced mischievously, a small smirk on her face.

**That** suggestion promptly woke the brunette up.

"K-K-Kyoko, w-what?!" Makoto yelped, his throat constricting and his eyes widened to the size of plates. His body jerked at sudden attention, as he scrambled away from her, looking down at her in mortification.

His face felt like it was on fire, as vivid images of such an event flashed through his mind. His blood and heart pumped frantically, his body having a war with itself. He was glad that he'd disengaged himself from her so quickly, because he was pretty sure that if he'd stayed frozen in shock, she would've felt a sudden stiffness dig into her backside.

Kyoko looked over her shoulder, flashing him an alluring, impish smirk.

"Well, it was simply a possibility," she said lightly, her tone obviously teasing. "However, it looks like we're both very much awake," she stated simply, as her elegant body sat up in the bed.

A strangled noise erupted from the incredibly flustered brunette, as he shifted in place, trying to discreetly cover up his boner. Which Kyoko, of course, immediately noted.

"Y-You c-can't just **say** things l-like that, Kyoko!" he exclaimed, looking quite mortified, and he jabbed his finger at her.

Kyoko merely hummed noncommittally, as she stretched, jutting out her chest on purpose to cause her partner more embarrassment. She then released her long hair from the ponytail she habitually wore when sleeping, noting from her peripherals that Makoto was glaring at her, his face still an adorable shade of pink.

"I'm going to shower now," Kyoko stated casually, as she prepared to get off the bed and head towards the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom.

However, before she could even swing her legs over the edge of the bed, her arm was held back by a firm grip. She looked over her shoulder at Makoto, eyebrow cocked, before she was jerked back towards him.

"You can't just **do** that, Kyoko-chan," he stated firmly, his voice slightly hoarse, the pitch lower than normal. His eyes held a fire within them, taking her aback. He was looking at her in such a way that made her heart jump.

His voice, his expression, his eyes, his sleep-tousled hair, his _look_—it was all overwhelmingly attractive.

And Kyoko suddenly remembered, once more, that Makoto wasn't simply soft, friendly, hopeful, and adorable **all** the time. He wasn't just a little boy, and didn't always act like a flustered schoolgirl. He was passionate, firm, romantic, hormonal, and was a **man**, was someone with **experience** when it came to sexual activities.

"Hm? Is that so?" she asked, trying to keep her voice and hormones under control. Which was a feat, considering that she hand only ever been attracted to Makoto, and Makoto's _look_ was driving her body completely **mad**.

The brunette leaned forwards, eyes boring into hers, and she felt breathless.

"You can't just leave me hanging like that, Kyoko-chan," he stated softly, making her stomach jolt and tingle. "Not after you put such a possibility in my mind, make my body act like this, and then leave me with nothing to show for it."

That's when Makoto kissed her soundly, making her head spin. He kissed her strongly, and after she got over the shock, she kissed back, feeling as if a wave of heat was sweeping her away.

It was rare for either of them to be so romantically passionate. It simply wasn't in either of their natures. It was hard for Makoto to break from his soft kindness, and her to break from her controlled reactions. They were both about small gestures, and simply being in one another's company—it had taken them **months** to ever make out for the first time.

Now here they were, making out soundly. Makoto had pushed her against the mattress, now on top of her, as she strung her hands through his hair.

Every thought, every action, was simply about one another. Thoughts of starting the day, of the time, of work, were thrown out completely. All that was left was the heated passion for one another.

"We're going to get sweaty," Kyoko panted, after they both parted for air.

Makoto's eyes then took on an bright, sultry quality that made Kyoko feel oddly tingly.

"Then maybe we should take that shower together," Makoto suggested in a breathy, hot voice, as he started kissing and nipping down her smooth, pale neck.

Kyoko was suddenly incredibly grateful for thinking up such an ingenious idea to wake up Makoto.

* * *

"You're both over an **hour** late," Byakuya snapped irately at the two breathless figures before him.

He scrutinized their appearance. Wildly mussed-up hair, which was sopping wet. Sloppily dressed. Some type of package food in their grasp.

"Honestly, I expect this from **Hiro**, but not from **either** of you! And this isn't a mere ten minutes, like past incidents on your records, this is an **hour**!" The last living Togami barked at the duo, at his _friends_.

"S-Sorry, Byakuya-kun," Makoto said meekly, panting, as he tried to get back his breath from the sprinting he just underwent.

"Honestly, **what** could have made either of you so damn late?!" the blonde spit, glaring at both of them, full of chagrin and barely-masked confusion. "People could have **died**, if you had a vital mission at nine o clock today."

Makoto blushed, however his face was already red from excursion. He nervously looked over at Kyoko, who was adjusting her collar to properly cover up any sight of the hickeys peppered on her neck.

"Our alarm clock never went off," the lilac-haired girl lied smoothly. "When we awoke, it was already nine thirty... We apologize for the inconvenience."

The blonde simply rose an eyebrow, staring intently at the composed girl, before switching his gaze between both violet-haired and brown-haired of the duo.

"Do you need your alarm clock fixed? Or—perhaps you need someone to personally wake you both up at the right time?" the blonde deadpanned, deciding to believe their excuse. It was ten fifteen, and it took ten to fifteen minutes to get to this current sector. If they both took showers, changed, and ran here without eating breakfast, then their excuse made logical sense.

But why did he have the feeling that he was missing something...?

"I-I don't think that would be necessary, Byakuya-kun," Makoto noted, laughing awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head.

"I believe it was only a rare mistake. If it acts up once more, then we'll take the clock to get fixed by Souda-kun," Kyoko said placidly.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes at them, giving a huff. "Fine. But **don't** let it happen again." He turned his back to them, telling them over his shoulder, "I'm counting on you two to always be useful and responsible. The others cause too many headaches."

"Will do, Byakuya-kun," the ahoge-haired boy mumbled, giving a half-smile. The blonde fully turned around, and stormed off towards his office.

But even then, the duo didn't regret being late whatsoever.


	21. Lilac Envy

**AN**: *flails around* I've lost control of my life. I got inspiration for a fic (Non Dangan Ronpa related), and have been writing it since Friday. Now I have 25k words for it. Honestly, I'm baffled that I even managed to write anything for this fic, in my mad state.

This also isn't my best chapter? Because it's more of a somewhat obsessive, creepy character/pairing analysis? I don't even know anymore, just take it *dives into the junkyard, and builds a house out of trash*

I swear, the next chapter will be better.

* * *

REQUESTED (by Crazedpooch on AO3)

Chihiro Fujisaki x Kyoko Kirigiri

(Chihigiri, Fujigiri, Chikyoko)

Lilac Envy

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

_Kyoko Kirigiri_.

_Ultimate Detective_, daughter of the Headmaster of _Hope's Peak Academy_. Lethally beautiful, intelligent, and graceful. Justice personified, with the sharpest of minds— almost as if she was an ethereal being that was sent to Earth to pass judgment among mortals.

She was also distant, silent, serious, sharp, and composed. With skin as pale and soft as a fresh blanket snow, hair a beautiful shade of lilac, eyes as powerful of that of a tiger, lips as pretty as a silk ribbon. Wrapped in the most professional and slickest leather when not in the atypical school uniform, studded gloves always on her hands, as if they were a second skin.

_Chihiro Fujisaki_ envied her.

Envied her hair, her face, her skin, her eyes, her figure, her intelligence, her confidence, her composure, her title—her **everything**.

Because Kyoko Kirigiri embodied **strength**—both inner and outer, both mind and soul, both actions and words, both silence and sound, both will and defeat.

It wasn't as obvious as _Mondo Owada_ or _Sakura Ogami_, or even _Byakuya Togami_. It was an alluring, potent strength. Strength of someone who's been through hell and back, and still moves forwards, still does the most outstanding feats possible.

At first, Chihiro thought themself stupid and petty, for envying Kyoko Kirigiri. Such tumultuous, negative emotions were very rare for the Programmer.

However, they realized something. That realization was this: Kirigiri-san was simply too amazing, for people to **not** admire or become envious of her. She just seemed to pull people in, no matter how much she kept her distance.

It was a bit like what _Sayaka Maizono_ and _Junko Enoshima_ had, but **deeper**, if that made any sense.

Kirigiri-san was simply the coldest person that would be so magnetic—and even then, she was only icy under the surface, under a careful masking of emotions. She was as sweet as lilacs; one just simply had to dig under the snow to find the prismatic purple flowers, and the wonderfully sweet smell.

So Chihiro had to live with this knowledge, the knowledge that they envied Kyoko Kirigiri. Wanted to be her friend. Wanted to be as strong and intelligent and calm as her. Wanted to **be** her.

And every time the brunette would look at Kirigiri-san, their heart would beat a little faster— a quick _thump thump thump_, like a drum during an energetic song.

Kirigiri-san was wonderfully astute, and sometimes, Chihiro would feel a rush of adrenaline. Worry and wonder if Kirigiri-san has found out their secret. Found out that under the skirt is the parts of a boy, an incredibly weak and cowardly boy.

Found out that they are someone who simply wants to wrap their entire heart and soul, entire **existence**, around her. Someone who wanted to be like her so much, that they wanted to **have** her.

Chihiro's blood would thrum and pound in their body, vibrating and pulsing. They would be worried—both for their secret and for their obsession, admiration, envy, **whatever** they had, for her.

It was only a matter of when Kirigiri-san would find out—there was **no** question that she'd find out. She was _Kirigiri-san_, and she was the Ultimate Detective. It's an inevitable outcome.

Rather than **if**, it's a matter of **when**. **When** Kirigiri-san will found out? And, perhaps even **which**—**which** of the two will Kirigiri-san find out first?

Chihiro was in an odd state, and odd position. With their gender secret. With their secret affections.

Because they **adored** the girl so much, that they wanted to both **be** that girl and **be with** that girl.

Chihiro would even **dream** about her. Dream of how good it would be to tenderly caress her face, kiss her lips, connect and **feel** the strength she had within her. Dream of the day that she would help them finally being strong, being confident.

Dream of making her composure slip. Dream of her face flushing a pleasant pink. Dream of seeing if her legs were as smooth as they looked. Dream of making cute, breathtaking, embarrassing noises escape from her lips…

Chihiro would sometimes wake up from those certain dreams, wet and mortified, heart beating as fast as a train. Wondering why they would dream so much of her, why they would dream of those things, why their hormones raged like a storm at sea when it came to her. Wondering _why they were in so deep_, _why are they so enamored with Kyoko Kirigiri_, _why is this happening_.

Of course, they could ask no one these questions, and no one could answer them. So Chihiro Fujisaki had to live with it.

Live with carrying two large secrets within them. Live with the tumultuous emotion of envy, admiration, attraction, paranoia, and fright.

But they could live with it. They could live with anything, as long as they were able to be in the presence of the lilac beauty.

* * *

Purple—lilac, specifically—started to creep into Chihiro's room. Slowly, the color started to appear, in various forms.

One day, Kirigiri-san herself noted such an occurrence.

"Fujisaki-san, I've noted that you've started to accessorize more with purple. Today, for instance, you have a beautiful purple heart necklace on."

"I…T-Thank you. I-I suppose I just s-started to like the c-color," the Programmer mumbled, fidgeting with the sleeves of their uniform.

"Hmmmm. Interesting," the Detective merely noted, before turning their attention to something else.

That very next day, Chihiro left the necklace in a box, inside the lilac-haired girl's desk.

It seemed that it was only a matter of **when**. The **which** seemed like it would be resolved soon.

Chihiro was still a smidge envious.


	22. Tangled Hangovers

**AN**: I've been a busy bee lately. 4 projects are due this week, midterms are coming up, and I've lost control of my life by writing another, even lengthier fanfic.

I promised a few people that I was going to post hinanami soon, but I honestly haven't had the time or inspiration to write it. Kuzuhina came first- which is odd, because I dont ship it as strongly, but whatever. It's not like I'm sane or anything anymore.

Fuyuhiko and Hajime acting like bros/ morons together is my lifeblood now. Look at these stupid assholes.

_The entire 'traditional drinking blood-pact ceremony' is from Fuyuhiko's last Free Time Event, if you all didn't know._

* * *

REQUESTED (by PersonaNonGratia on AO3)

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu x Hajime Hinata

(Kuzuhina, Hajihiko, Fuyujime)

Tangled Hangovers

(_Post-Game_)

* * *

The room is calmly silent. The only noises present are the soft snores coming from the two boys sprawled across the large bed.

One of the boys stirs. He's small—very small, but would vehemently deny his lacking stature to any such accusations about his height. He shifts his blonde head to the side, cursing groggily under his breath.

_Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu_ opens his golden eyes, squinting tiredly off to the side of his bed, at the blaringly bright alarm block perched upon the side table.

Four thirty a.m.…_Kami_, how long was he out…?

The blonde then blearily noted a heavy weight upon him, and odd things entangling him. He groaned, looking—glaring, really—over at his other side.

His eyes met the sight of one _Hajime Hinata_ sprawled across his bed. The taller boy's legs were drawn up, his knees laying on top of Fuuhiko's midsection, the bed sheets entangling their forms together.

Fuyuhiko stiffened, his brain going in overdrive, trying to remember **why** the fuck Hajime _was in his bed_, and **how** the fuck _he even __**got**__ there_.

His memories slowly filtered through his brain, like a shittily made AMV. He gave a loud groan, as he finally pieces together his memories of last night's events.

"_That's right_," he bemoans in his head. "_I asked him to come to my room to hang and talk about shit, and then it got all deep and emotional. Then we drank to brotherhood and bonds and all that shit, and got fucking wasted…_"

"Fucking piss— no **wonder** my head hurts like a bitch," Fuyuhiko growled bitterly, his head's pounding suddenly becoming pronounced, making him feel awful and disoriented.

All of a sudden, his companion stirred. The dark-haired boy started to shift around, mumbling something sarcastic-sounding under his breath.

"_Looks like my voice woke him up_," Fuyuhiko noted, feeling an odd amount of guilt at the outcome.

That guilt quickly evaporated when Hajime shifted, _rolling on top of him_.

"Oi! What the shit?!" Fuyuhiko barked, as the larger boy's body was splayed across his smaller one.

If he thought Hajime's **knees** were heavy, then he sure as hell hadn't experienced **anything**. Hajime's body was _crushing_ him, it was so heavy!

"Gerroff me, asshole!" the blonde commanded, struggling to push the other boy off him, to no avail. He was too weak; struggle was futile.

Hajime snorted, cutting his snoring mid-snore, his head suddenly jerking. "Wha…?" he voiced, disoriented.

"I **said**—GET OFF, FATASS," Fuyuhiko yelled angrily, trying to push off the other boy with a large heave.

Hajime blinked sleepily, obviously confused, but rolled off of his smaller companion despite it. The smaller boy suddenly gulped in large breaths, finally able to properly breathe, without being slowly crushed by at least 170 pounds of sarcastic asshole blood-brother that was Hajime Hinata.

"No need to fucking yell," the ahoge-haired boy muttered under his breath, as he groggily sat up, rubbing his eyes to rid the drowsiness.

"Well **maybe** if you didn't fucking ROLL ON TOP OF ME, I wouldn't NEED to fucking yell!" Fuyuhiko yelled, obviously pissed, and now recovered from the utterly shitty experience of having someone bigger than you laying on top of you.

"You're over-reacting," Hajime stated, rolling his eyes. "You could've pushed me off, dumbass."

The blonde colored, his face slowly started to turn red. "Oh, you think I didn't fucking try, huh?!" he replied murderously. "You think I **wanted** you to fucking crush me, while you slept like a fucking moron?! You're heavy as shit!"

"I am _not_!" the other boy replied, personally offended. He glared down at the baby-faced boy—who was currently leaning back on his elbows, sharply glaring back up at him—feeling incredibly awake and alert.

Fuyuhiko gave a derisive snort. "Oh yes, you **are**! You're fucking heavy, Hajime Hinata! **Honestly**, I expected getting crushed by a _fatass_, not from my retarded best fucking friend _who was stupid enough to roll on top of me in his sleep_."

"Oh, and you think that **you** didn't roll on top of **me** in your sleep?" Hajime retorted. "'Cuz you fucking did, Fuyuhiko, and **I** didn't complain about it at **all**."

"Well **I'm** not fourty pounds heavier and six inches taller than you, fucktard!" the blonde spit angrily, before suddenly freezing, his eyes wide.

"Wait…What?!" he yelped, realization on what his friend just said dawning upon him.

"Yeah, that's right—**you** rolled onto **me** in your sleep, too," Hajime re-iterated. "And again, I didn't say a fucking peep about it. I just let you sleep and lay there like a sack of potatoes, to your little heart's content."

"Oh, I did **not** fucking roll on top of you!" Fuyuhiko insisted, harried, blushing in mortification. "You probably just imagined it, dumbass!"

"I don't know about you, but **I** usually don't imagine my asshole male best friend laying on top of me like a sack of bricks," Hajime deadpanned. "Kind of hard to think it's fake, too, when your chest feels like its getting crushed."

The blonde spluttered, his face slowly getting pinker, as he glared at his blood-brother slash best friend.

"Shut up!" he retorted eloquently, crossing his arms with a huff, as he sharply looked away from his friend.

"Wow, that's an incredibly **genius** response that **obviously** utilized all thirty seconds of your spluttering to create," Hajime said sarcastically, rolling his eyes fondly at his friend's obvious denials.

Although, he wouldn't change his friend's habits for the world—it just wouldn't be the same. It was a miracle in itself that their personalities managed to stay intact, after the _New World Program,_ and waking up from the simulation.

At this thought, Hajime ran a hand through his hair. His _soft_, _black_, _slightly longer_ hair. The only trait—along with his red eyes—that remained from _Izuru Kamukura_, his previous identity.

"Shut up, fucker," Fuyuhiko said, with little actual venom. He was fighting down a smile, most likely coming to terms with laying on top of Hajime, earlier in the night.

"If it'll help with this killer headache, then **gladly**," the dark-haired boy replied dryly.

Fuyuhiko gave a groan, remembering once more of his thrumming headache, their actions last night, and the current time.

"Fuck, I **knew** we shouldn't have fucking drunken real alcohol to go along with the traditional ceremony," Fuyuhiko muttered morosely, rubbing a hand at his left temple.

"And who's idea was that, exactly…?" Hajime reminded him, an eyebrow cocked as he stared down the other boy.

"Shuddup. It was a fucking awesome idea at the time, shit-stain," the blonde retorted snappishly. "An' we both never had alcohol before, and it was a really fucking vital part of the tradition. You're not a **real** man—and don't fucking make a man's promise and blood-bond—if you don't have some fucking _sake_ to toast with in the sake cups. It's how shit's done."

Hajime huffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, you explained this to me before when we went through with it last night, remember? And I already **know** how important tradition is to you and stuff—you're an obviously strict traditionalist."

"Just shut the fuck up and help me find some shit to kill our hangovers," Fuyuhiko demanded, as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, and stood up. He wavered, stumbling slightly, but managed to stay upright and pad slowly towards the exit of his room.

"You don't need to tell me twice, Fuyuhiko," Hajime intoned sassily, standing up with greater ease, despite his bleariness. He joined his friend, to leave the blonde's room to head to the Infirmary.

"Asshole—showing off," the blonde muttered, shooting a squinty glare at his taller companion as he swayed.

The red-eyed boy snorted. "**You** were the one who insisted on trying to match me cup-for-cup, and got drunk on the second, despite my warning. And I drank **twice** as much as you, too, and I'm still sober enough to pass a line-walking test—where areas **you'd** fail."

"If I wasn't so fucking hung-over, I'd beat the shit out of you right now," the shorter boy grumbled, stomping as they made their way down the silent hall.

Hajime hummed noncommittally, knowing that Fuyuhiko was too soft to do so to a close friend.

"When we go back to bed after this, you better stay on **your** side," he merely stated.

"Oh, **fuck** you too, ahogay. Just don't fucking lay on top of me like a fatass again, and I won't have to put you on a fucking diet," the blonde scathing retorted, giving a smirk up at his friend.

"Love you too, Fuyuhiko," the tall boy drawled sarcastically down at his shorter companion, returning the smirk.

"Yeah, yeah—you fucking better."

Their laughter resounded around the quiet building.

* * *

Ten minutes later, _Akane Owari_ woke up, deciding to head over to the Cafeteria to get a snack. On the way, she heard loud, teasing, laughing voices coming from the Infirmary.

She ducked her head inside the sterile-white room, seeing Hajime and Fuyuhiko joking with one another, arms slung around each other's shoulders. She grinned toothily at the sight, and burst into the room.

With the tremendous strength that she was known for, Akane flung one boy over each shoulder— still grinning up at them all the while, as her friends gave loud complaints.

"Alright, boys—it's **way** too early for you two to be out an' about, plus you're prob'ly sick or somethin' from bein' in the Infirmary…" she started, as she carried them out of the room and down the hall. "So I'm doin' ya both a favor, an' carrying ya back to Fuyu's room to keep hangin'— or **whatever** you two were doin', all of last night."

The two boys protested sluggishly, faces pink in embarrassment. But their protests were weak and died out soon. Both took some major pain killer medicine, and were getting drowsy from it.

Plus, they really **did** appreciate Akane's help for helping them back to the blonde's room, even if the method in question was unconventional and hurt their fragile manly pride. They probably would've stumbled through the halls—tired, hung-over, drowsy, and doped on medicine—and there was no guarantee of them actually **making** it to the room. They could've passed out in the hall together, sprawled across one another, for all they knew.

"'M never fuckin' drinking again," Fuyuhiko muttered, from his perch upon Akane's right shoulder.

"Agreed," Hajime responded tiredly, from up on Akane's left shoulder.

They both broke out into simultaneous, tired, loony laughter. Akane chuckled in amusement.

"I hope you **do**, actually—I'd like ta see you both like this again. 'S funny," the tan girl intoned, as she finally came upon the half-open door of Fuyuhiko's room. "An' it looks like you both left the door open, when ya went stumblin' down to stop your hangovers."

The brunette swiftly stepped into the room—not caring whatsoever about privacy, decency, morals, or the fact that it was a **boy's** room—and dropped her friends on the large bed.

"Hope ya don't wake up again with those killer headaches. Hangovers ain't fun at **all**," she said, before promptly spinning on her heel and leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu and Hajime Hinata then promptly fell asleep, sprawled across the bed, their limbs entangling once more.


	23. Nine in the Afternoon

**AN**: Here it is, literally the chapter you've all been waiting for: hinanami goodness. Hell yeah, son. Also, with the cliched bonus of a _Panic! at the Disco_ song, because I love them and I'm dumb.

Also, I'm drowning in requests. I'm glad you guys like my fic so much, but please be gentler with me. _I've gotten way more requests than I can write at a time._

* * *

REQUESTED (by The villager on ffnet, and Anepg, KikoTehEeevee, and pizzapirate196 on AO3)

Hajime Hinata x Chiaki Nanami

(Hinanami, Hinami, Hajiaki)

Nine in the Afternoon

(_Mutual Killing_)

* * *

It was nine in the afternoon, and _Hajime Hinata_ found himself inside _Chiaki Nanami'_s cottage.

(_Into a room, where it's Nine in the Afternoon_.)

It was odd, really. Hajime had originally just wanted to check up on the often spacey girl, especially with all the excitement recently. The party, the First School Trial, the death and despair, the Second Island opening up...

**Especially** because of the Trial. It was still fresh in his mind. What had happened with Komaeda showing his true colors, his insanity. What Chiaki did— helping them go in the right direction, shutting Komaeda's ranting up, helping him find the culprit...

Even inside a girl's cottage, standing awkwardly in the middle of the eerily similar space— a space that looked almost identical to his own, barring the handheld game consoles scattered about...The troubling memories of the horrors from yesterday were still dominant in his mind.

It didn't help that he was nervous as hell, and his mind was trying to rid itself of any **weird** thoughts he was having, because of his current position. He'd never spent time with anyone inside their cottage, much less a fellow teenage girl, who was too soft and lenient to be safe.

(_And we know that it could be_.)

"...Hajime-kun, what's wrong?" her soft voice filtered throughout the air, jolting him from his previous thoughts.

"Oh! Er..." he said awkwardly, trying to collect his thoughts, and **not** make an ass of himself in front of her. "Just checking up on you, see if you're okay after...After all that's happened," he finished lamely, not wanting to voice the obvious.

"Ah..." she said, with such understanding that Hajime was **jealous**—because **he** sure as hell didn't understand himself right now.

"Thank you," she stated, giving him a soft, sincere smile that made his heart suddenly thump quicker than normal.

"Er, yeah...Anyways, I guess I'll be—" he started, incredibly flustered and ready to bolt out of her cottage.

"Hajime-kun," she stated, cutting him off. It wasn't even particularly forceful, the way she said his name. She just said it, making the words halt in his throat, and his limbs freeze.

"Yeah...?" he asked, rubbing his arm nervously, trying to stifle his reactions and feelings. It didn't help that Chiaki just **stood** there, looking at him with those sleepy eyes of hers…

Finally, she seemed to have come up with something to say.

"Would you...Like to play some games with me?"

He jolted in surprise from the sudden, and rather odd, request. He thought she would maybe say something, then bid him goodnight. He didn't expect her to ask him to play video games with him, in the late afternoon, in her cottage, **alone**.

So many things could go wrong with this. And maybe she didn't realize it. That, or she just **really** loved her games—which made sense, considering she was the _Ultimate Gamer_, but still. It was a request that made him nervous and tingly.

(_And we know that it should_)

"Er...You sure, Chiaki?" Hajime-kun asked tentatively, rubbing the back of his head in an odd show of nervousness.

"Hm...Yes," she stated. "If you would like to, that is, Hajime-kun," she added as an afterthought.

"Yeah, no, that'd be cool. I want to, since you, um, want to. Fine with me," he babbled, trying to look nonchalant, but obviously full of nerves. Chiaki found it cute, how he seemed so out of his depth.

She was nothing to be afraid of. She should actually be very soothing to others. And yet, here Hajime Hinata was, acting oddly instead of feeling comfortable.

She would put that observation away to analyze later.

"...I have various games, and various systems," Chiaki finally answered, after being silent, finally breaking the dragging tension in the cottage. Or, at least, **he** thought it was really tense in the room. And was it getting hotter, or was that just him?

"Various systems, huh? I thought you just had handhelds," Hajime muttered, scrutinizing the room more closely to try to orient his thoughts.

Chiaki had multiple handheld systems lying about—on her bed, her beside table, her dresser, and even on random places on the floor. He noted that there was, in fact, a few game consoles in the room, connected to a TV in the corner.

How he never noticed the TV and game consoles in the first place was a complete and utter mystery. He must have been really out of it, worrying too much about yesterday, and being in a girl's room.

"Do you have any preference, Hajime-kun…?" Chiaki asked, staring at the tall boy. "Console, genre, series, company?"

Sweat trickled down the side of his brow. He played some video games, like any average teenage boy. But he didn't have a large repertoire or expertise, like Nanami would most likely have.

"Um, what genre do you like, Chiaki?" he asked, deflecting the question.

She looked at him with those doe-like eyes of her, head tilted to the side. "I'm good at many genre's except…" she trailed off, her cheeks tingeing pink, "Dating Sims."

Hajime felt his heart skip and thud loudly in his chest, as well as heat travel up his neck. The shorter girl before him just looked so…_cute_. Bashful blushing, avoiding eye contact…

Hell, he felt like he was in an actual Dating Sim, right about now. It's like he tripped a red flag, and he had to make the right decision to win over the girl, and get the Good Route.

(_And you know that you feel it too_.)

He berated himself furiously in his mind. Now was not the time to think about relationships and romance. They were still stuck on this island, in the midst of a murdering game held by a robotic, demotic teddy bear. He wouldn't do that to her—wouldn't take advantage of Chiaki, or make her uncomfortable.

So Hajime Hinata chickened out of making a move on Chiaki Nanami.

"You got Mario Kart?" he asked suddenly, fighting down his blush. "I played that a lot on consoles, and it's one my favorite games."

The girl looked up dazedly at him, her eyes wide and perplexed. He couldn't help but think they were really pretty.

God, he was losing it.

(_'Cause it's Nine in the Afternoon,  
And your eyes are the size of the moon._)

"I have Mario Kart 64, Mario Kart Double Dash, and Mario Kart Wii," she listed off promptly.

He blinked. She said all that so promptly and crisply, without needing to think it over…This must be what video games can do to her.

"Er…I'm feeling nostalgic. Let's play the 64 version," the tall boy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright. Let me set up the console," Chiaki said serenely, padding over to the television.

Hajime stood awkwardly, watching her as she went on her knees to organize all the consoles with an odd amount of deftness and precision.

She moved various consoles around, clearing a space so it was just the lone Nintendo 64 in front of the television. Then she connected the cables to the television's adapters, and did more techno fiddling with things.

Hajime hasn't played on a Nintendo 64 since he was a kid. He's not even sure how well he'll do.

Either way, he'd probably get creamed.

Before he knows it, Chiaki's got the entire thing set up, and powers up the old system.

"Player One, or Player Two?" Chiaki asks him over her shoulder, as she promptly sits down in a cross-legged position in front of the television, rather than sitting on her bed.

"Er…It's your stuff, so I'm fine with Two," the ahoge-haired boy mumbles, as he slowly lowers himself on the floor, sitting next to the girl. He leaves a good amount of space between them, not wanting to be rude.

The pink-haired girl hands him the second controller, as she quickly goes through the title, then race, and then the character selection screen.

"Sit closer. You won't be able to see the screen as well from over there," she suddenly comments, and the boy jolts.

She says it as half a request, and half a demand. It's oddly firm, compared to her usual demeanor.

(_You could 'cause you can so you do_.)

Hajime flushes, before scooting over tentatively. There's only a few inches between them, now. If one of them leans over too much, their shoulders would be touching.

Chiaki promptly chooses Princess Peach. Hajime opts for Luigi, although he heavily considered using Mario.

They play the 50cc Grand Prix, because Chiaki says that "_It's a warm-up game_". The boy feels like she's only doing this for his sake.

The controller feels awkward in his hands, and he fumbles with the controls. Chiaki however, has every move calculated, and is leagues ahead of even the computer players, always in 1st place.

When the rounds are over, Chiaki's in 1st, and Hajime's in 4th . He's not sure what else he was expecting.

He demands another round, pride bruised and wanting to redeem himself, and she agrees.

Each round they play, their bodies get closer, they talk and joke more. There's a buzz in the air, and they're having fun, their other troubles and worries leaving them.

Hajime doesn't even care that Chiaki's always in 1st place.

They play until the announcement for Nighttime. With heavy hearts and regretful sighs, they turn off the console, and Hajime leaves her cottage. But not before he tells her, with a grin, that he'll be back again to play with her.

She gives him the brightest, most hopeful smile he's ever seen, and he feels like he doesn't ever want to leave her side.

(_We're feeling so good,  
Just the way that we do,  
When it's Nine in the Afternoon.)_


	24. Soft

**AN**: College is kicking my ass. I have 5 projects due this week, and I was insane enough to decide, "_Hey, starting another fic or two wouldn't hurt me!_". Oh how I was wrong...

Anyways, if you like The Hunger Games as well as Dangan Ronpa, you should read my other fic _The Games They Play_. DR kids in the Hunger Games, and I have actual plot and changes happen throughout the years, so that's always cool.

No one even requested this, but I got sick of seeing that long list of requests and I already had this written as a back-up chapter months ago. _Requests will come back next chapter, hopefully_. *waves broom around frantically to deter Komaeda from jumping into the fic* _Huge SDR2, Chiaki/Chihiro spoilers, etc._

* * *

Chihiro Fujisaki x Chiaki Nanami

(Fujinami, Chinami, Fujisaki family)

Soft

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

For some reason, _Chihiro Fujisaki_ felt lonely that day.

Which didn't make sense, really. They were surrounded by their classmates—who were mostly a friendly bunch—and their friends.

Hell, today Chihiro hung out with many people. Mondo and Leon, with Hiro-san, during lunch. Hina and Maizono-san energetically chatting with them during P.E. class. Yamada-san had called them over to look over some character designs he created, and gushed to them about 'Chikage-chan' and 'Nami-chan'.

Hell, even Junko-san had talked—more like cooed—at Chihiro. The model's honeyed words sounded very nice, but for some reason, they made the tiny programmer feel like crap afterwards.

It was after talking to Junko-san that Chihiro felt a pang of loneliness. It was like a void in their chest.

So, to try to make themself feel better, the tiny programmer did what they did best: program.

Programming was nice. It made the brunette feel calm.

But for some reason, Chihiro just wasn't into it. They only got a few sequences in before their fingers paused on their laptop's keyboard, their inspiration puttering out.

The dreaded, heavy feeling just wouldn't **leave**.

So Chihiro paused, and in that stagnant minute, thought of home.

They thought of their father, who always worked hard and long hours, but would make time to talk and comfort Chihiro, or look over their new work. Who would pull Chihiro out of their nonstop programming escapades, and feed and dress and tuck them in at night.

They thought of the extensive amount of computer programs back on the PCs at home. Of the very first voice recognition program that got them well-known in the world of programming in the first place; the one that eventually led to them being admitted into _Hope's Peak Academy_.

Hell, at that point, Chihiro even thought of their mother.

With that last subject in mind, something clicked within the tiny brunette.

They needed to create something.

Something that could give them hope.

Something like…A simulation.

In an instant, it all made sense. It's as if a switch was turned on inside their mind. Things started to line up. Their thoughts became a well-oiled machine.

A simulation!

They needed to figure out how to make an Artificial Intelligence, anyways, for a project they'd been commissioned to work on. Perhaps simulating people could help with both the AI project **and** Chihiro's loneliness.

With that, Chihiro fingers tapped away on their keyboard with renewed vigor. They started to create a basic program to run that would show simulated responses of a human model.

It would be a bit of a side-project, but also a test-drive of their current huge project.

Something for fun, but was also needed.

Things fell into place smoothly as if pieces of a puzzle were sliding and locking into place. Soon enough, everything was set up. Chihiro hadn't even paid attention to how much time passed—it could have been hours, or it could have been mere minutes.

They always lost themselves, while they were programming. Sometimes, for even days at a time. The time put into something never bothered Chihiro anyways—it was the programming itself that mattered.

Chihiro took a minute to click and tap away, double-checking things. The basic skeletal program was definitely done. Now all the tiny brunette needed was a model.

That caused Chihiro to pause and think.

The reason they did this in the first place was because of the dread inside themself. For feeling alone.

But…What (or rather, who) exactly should they make?

They needed someone…Someone that, by just sight alone, could comfort Chihiro.

The brunette's mind wandered, trying to think of a basis. Anything would work, really. It just needed to be something that felt important to them…

Their mind landed on the one person that had spurred this little project's creation: Chihiro's mother.

It was decided, then and there. Chihiro wanted to create a woman, who would make them not feel lonely any more.

But how would they look…?

Soft.

Her features had to be soft. Motherly, even.

They **needed** her to be motherly.

Chihiro only ever had a father. Their mother died when they were very young. And their dad was always busy working—so they were generally very quiet, and didn't get as much attention as most kids would from their parents.

It was just a simulation, but maybe…They could have a caring, mother figure. Or, well… At the very least, a big sister.

Chihiro had always wanted a sibling. They were lonely as an only child. Even lonelier when they got bullied and shunned by all their classmates for being so incredibly weak, for a boy.

Chihiro wasn't the best at art or creating models, but they still tried to figure out how this simulated motherly girl would look like.

They used a simple model program—just to get a rough layout.

And when they were tired and frustrated that the results just didn't seem to come out right, they switched over to another.

MMD.

It was popular online. Many used it for modeling. Hell, Vocaloid's popularity spurred it, and the voice simulation program became even more popular afterwards.

So, MMD. They could work with that.

Slowly, Chihiro started to make their thoughts into reality.

Soft, pale skin. Soft, brown hair. Soft, kind eyes.

Generally just very soft, they decided. And curvy. Soft and curvy.

That's what mothers were, right? Softness and curves?

That's what their mother looked like, in pictures.

So, everything about her would be soft, and caring.

She would have to be short, as well—but still taller than them. So that Chihiro wouldn't feel too weak, because of any large height gaps.

Chihiro's fingers fluttered over the keyboard like a whirlwind, the thoughts implemented and molding the figure of the girl on the screen.

Soon, Chihiro had a general layout for the model. Now, to just tweak appearance a bit…

But then suddenly Chihiro blinked, bringing themself back into reality. The girl looked like themself—just taller and curvier. In a plain dark school uniform, with white shoes, to boot.

They shook their head vehemently, as if to dispel the stupidity of having made such an obvious, glaring mistake. No, she **couldn't** look like them. She could have a resemblance, but had to look **different**.

They were modeling the girl too close to themself and their mother.

However…They could work with it as a base.

First, the hair.

Long, or short hair? Long hair was nice, and more… Girly?

But after deliberation, they decided on it to be short. They went to change the sort of hairstyle to be like various short-haired girls they'd seen at school. A mix of Ikusaba-san's, and a redhead sempai named Koizumi-san.

Somehow, just a touch of their own hairstyle stayed.

But then Chihiro moved onto clothes. The schoolgirl outfit was too generic.

Chihiro decided to add details to them. Give the button-up a stripe of black, where the buttons would sit. A dark ribbon would go around the collar. The jacket she would wear would be a comfortable black one.

She'd also wear her skirt to be high-waisted. That was different than normal, right? It gave a bit of a mature feel to her. Black stockings adorned her curvy legs.

Chihiro stretched, and cracked their fingers. Then, they took a much-needed break to look at the progress of their project.

It was…odd to look at. Everything was very monochrome—to be more 'mature'. However, they realized that they were trying just a bit **too** hard on the simulated girl's look.

The softness that Chihiro originally wanted, and modeled the girl to be, was muted by the dark colors. They were creating a Frankenstein of a businesswoman and a schoolgirl.

Frowning, Chihiro tried to decide what to add to her.

A cute backpack, maybe?

A few clicks and clacks ensued. After a few moments, they added on a pink cat backpack to the model.

Better.

She looked cuter, with that backpack. Softer.

Maybe they should go more towards a big sister, who felt motherly? It would probably be better, and seem less forced.

Chihiro nodded resolutely. They couldn't have a mother, but a caring older sister could still be in their grasp.

Deciding that they did too much work to lose it, they opened up the save option.

They stared at it—at the little box with the blinking cursor where the name of the file should go.

What to name her…?

Trying to fish for ideas, they couldn't think of what her name should be.

It would just be weird to name her after any of their classmates or friends. They had to think of another place for inspiration.

Shrugging, Chihiro typed in the first syllable of their own name. Chi.

That was a start; but it just felt odd to only name her one syllable. It caused the tiny brunette to feel bad.

"Chi…aki?" they murmured to themself. "Chiaki?"

It was a nice girl's name. Chiaki.

It was a bit common, too. A bit like their own name. It hadn't been that hard to think of it.

So they named the file Chiaki. They could think of a last name later.

Chihiro decided to keep on working on her look. The pink backpack had done wonders to her drab monochrome palette.

They needed some softer colors on her.

First, the hair and eyes.

They could always keep the hair and eye color the exact same as their own, but that just felt…lazy.

Pink already looked nice on her, so maybe…

Her eyes and hair would have the same soft pink color. Pink was a very nice and girly color, wasn't it? And it wasn't a garish pink—it was a light one. It fit her image.

Pink was still such an off color for hair, though. They played around with the color wheel a bit, and ended up with a very light brown that was heavily tinged pink.

Better. It looked a bit more natural.

They left the pink eyes. Those were just too nice to change.

Now, to work on the clothes.

The clothes she'd been programmed with were nice clothes, if a bit plain. Or, rather, drably colored.

Chihiro decided to tweak them. Change the button-up's stripe to be a navy. The ribbon would be pink instead of the dark gray satin—and match her eyes.

The jacket slowly formed into a type of trendy, comfortable look. It went from black to a dark navy, with white stripes near the ends of the sleeves and jacket.

There. That started to look better. Like a big sister.

There was too much dark on her palette, still. So, they changed the skirt to be a lighter color.

The programmer tweaked the color palette, deciding on what shade to make the school skirt. A light tan—or was it called beige? Probably called beige—color seemed to fit.

They left the black socks. A bit like their own look…

Noticing that their mind was trying to make Chiaki's model similar to their own type of dress, Chihiro decided to make the socks more mid-thigh length. Then, they changed the shoes she was wearing to be pink Mary Janes, to match the pink motif she had.

There. She started to look like a sibling, yet her own person.

Chihiro clicked save.

They could work on Chiaki later, maybe add some more details and tweak her design a bit. But she already looked like she was coming into fruition.

Overall, Chiaki looked soft and kind. She looked like a nice big sister to have, even if she was short for her age.

Maybe she could be someone that liked technology too. Maybe not exactly programming, but something tech savvy…

Video games, maybe? Video game consoles were technology—and very popular. Whilst Chihiro was good at programming, **she** could be good at playing video games.

There wasn't an _Ultimate Gamer_ here at _Hope's Peak_, after all. It's not like they were stealing an idea or talent from someone. Just making Chiaki her own person.

Chihiro smiled down at Chiaki's model.

If only for a while, they could pretend to have a caring older sister with them at school.

"Goodnight, Big Sis Chiaki," Chihiro murmured at the screen, a grin on their face. "I'll help you accessorize your outfit tomorrow, okay?"

Chiaki's soft smile and features looked back up at Chihiro, as if saying, "_Alright, Chihiro. I'll be looking forward to it_."

The tiny programmer closed down the model program, and then shut down their laptop. A soft grin was still on their face.

Chiaki was real, at least to them.

And maybe they could make her real to others, too.

Chihiro ended up going to asleep, a content feeling wrapping them, as soft as the sheets they slept on.


	25. Conversion

**AN**: I finally had enough time to sit down and write something. Despite the fact that I have 5 essays and 2 projects due this coming week. YOLO *slowly dies under the growing pile of school work*

This isn't my best chapter, but I get the feeling that Sonia going Despair went down a similar path as this fic. Probably not as quickly- most likely a slow series of conversations, where Junko convinces the Princess to join Despair. But you get the drift.

* * *

REQUESTED (by Darkenning on AO3)

Sonia Nevermind x Junko Enoshima

(Junson, Sonko, Junkosonia)

Conversion

(_Ultimate Despair_)

* * *

_How did the Princess fall into Despair…?_

…

_Junko Enoshima_ had planned to convert _Sonia Nevermind_ to her cause since the beginning.

The Neverminds were one of the most powerful families of the world. They were the rulers of the militaristic country Novoselic, and were condensed. The few members of the House of Nevermind held immense power, and weren't spread out like the royal families of Britain or France.

And the girl would be sheltered. She'd want to learn **everything** about Japan— and who better to show her the wonderfully corrupt world than Junko Enoshima?

It was almost laughably easy, how she managed to convert the Princess to her cause. She was exactly as Junko predicted she would be, bar the fascination with serial killers. That tidbit only quickened the process…

* * *

_"Oh, and I love serial killers!" Sonia peppily stated, angelic smile in place, despite the oddity of such a statement._

_Junko Enoshima had just introduced herself to her sempai, Sonia Nevermind, and chat with her a bit. Chatting with her on the usual—their titles, their interests. Junko artfully danced and weaved her words, slowly underlying them with the beautiful poison of despair, spinning her silk web to trap the juicy little fly._

_And then the Princess goes and says something like __**that**__—something so utterly surprising, it made Junko let out a bark of laughter._

_Why, Sonia Nevermind's love of serial killers almost mirrored __**her**__ love of despair. It was just a paltry imitation to the real thing, but it was a grand paradox, nonetheless._

_"Well well—I would not have considered your interests to extend to such a subject! How wonderful!" Junko stated grandly, her queenly persona seeping in her bones._

_The Princess's eyes grew brighter. "Oh, are you interested in serial killers as well?" she asked excitedly, hands daintily held in front of her._

_"Oh, something like that…I just like how __**different**__ and __**dark**__ those types of people are, you know…? They're just not like everyday people. They're __**special**__."_

_Junko waited, seeing if the blindingly __**good**__ Princess will fall into her Venus flytrap of despair. She watches with a barely withheld smirk, as Sonia Nevermind's entire being radiates and excited, mesmerizing light._

_"How marvelous! That is my exact thoughts on them!" the girl exclaimed, giving an excited bounce, clapping her hands primly like a snooty nobleman watching a game of cricket._

_"Wow! Whooda thunk, huh?" Junko exclaimed, giving a harsh laugh. She then calmed down, carefully pulling herself together. She almost had the Princess in her claws; she had to focus._

_"Now, Sempai-chan…What would you say, if there was a super duper cool group you could join—a group that thinks differently from other people? A group that wants to do great things, that's spurred by a complicated, original, rare emotion? A group that accepts anyone, one where we can both join together, to see everyone's thought processes?" she proposed slowly, moods slowly shifting from cute to queenly to analytical. _

_"Oh—I would say that that would be hella fascinating! A rare experience that one must take in both arms, as they say!" the Princess answered, stars and resolution in her eyes. "It would certainly be great, if there was such a group!"_

_And there it was. The tug on the hook. The fly venturing into the trap._

_"Well—what if it was a real group? What if you can join me, Sonia-chan, to experience a whole new side of Japan and thinking…?"_

* * *

Junko Enoshima stood on the rubble-strewn platform, eyes bright, as she took in the sight of Sonia Nevermind harshly ordering and dictating the masses of mask-wearing followers.

The area was a beautiful sea of black and white and red. It was glorious. The black-and-white Monokuma masks gave unity, and the red of blood and fire popped cleanly from the drab colors of the buildings and rubble.

The pigtailed-blonde stepped forwards resolutely, her heels making a steady clack _clack clack!_ on the ground. She stopped next to the _Ultimate Princess_-turned _Ultimate Dictator_.

The mesmerizing girl slowly pat her subordinate's hair, crooning at her for a job well done. The harsh Dictator's features softened and brightened, as if she was a young child that got a wonderful gift for her birthday. She grinned up at the bustier girl that was crooning at her, basking in her praise and closeness.

"Did I do well, my Despair Queen?" she asked steadily, leaning into the woman's hand.

"You did, Sonia-chan. You did despairingly well. You'll make a wonderful Queen," Junko Enoshima assured her, the smile on her lips turning shark-like. "Aren't you glad you joined me…?"

"Very," Sonia Nevermind breathed, burying her face in the other girl's collarbone.

Junko laughed. A laugh that came from the very depths of her being. A laugh that reverberated through the destroyed city. A laugh that seeped itself in her despairing minions that rampaged through the streets.

It was despairingly easy to convert Sonia Nevermind to Despair. Junko Enoshima already had half of the world's most powerful people in the palm of her hands.


	26. TECH IS SUFFERING

**AN:** Aight, readers and friends alike, I got bad news

So my brother fucked something up on our PC. To 'fix' things (in quotations, because I dont know what good it really did) he rebooted/wiped our PC

3-almost 4- YEARS worth of files...GONE.

NOTHING. WAS. LEFT.

Literally ever program and addition we used on our computer. Dozens digital DVDs. Hundreds of carefully organized bookmarks. 3 years worth of imported reference pictures from my laptop. 400 songs. ALL OF MY ART FILES.

And HALF OF MY FANFICS

4 FULL CHAPTERS, THE LIST OF REQUESTS, AND VARIOUS PAIRING IDEAS FOR THIS FIC, PIECES OF THE PICTURE? GONE. NEVER TO RETURN. GOODBYE. ADIOS. SAYONARA.

So, to make this chapter legal, I'll write something so satirically enraged, it will make me want to break my desk

* * *

Chihiro Fujisaki x multi

(Chi-time, Fujisaki Fun, Chihiro's Bitches)

TECH IS SUFFERING

[Aka, no one in Hope's Peak knows fucking anything about computers/ Chihiro's trilogy of pain]

(_School days/pre-Mutual Killing_)

* * *

One day, _Chihiro Fujisaki_ was simply doing their business.

Not in **that** way, though! GOD, that is unholy! The kid still isn't legal yet! Shotacon! Shotacon!

Erm, back to our story...

Chihiro Fujisaki was in the A/V Room, hidden in a cozy little corner. They had their laptop propped up on their lap, the screen glowing, as they typed away frantically on the keys. The large room was barren and silent, bar the rapping staccato of tapping coming from the small _Ultimate Programmer. _

Chihiro enjoyed spending their time in the A/V Room. Most would be creeped out and how ominous the room was when it wasn't in use, but Chihiro found the rows of computers to be comforting. It made them feel more at home.

So Chihiro Fujisaki, the Ultimate Programmer, was doing their little programming thing, intent on their program that they were programming. Programmingly.

And then suddenly the door to the fucking A/V Room seemed to implode in itself.

The poor, innocent door was slammed open by a ferocious kick by no other than _Mondo Owada_. The crash of the door against the wall was loud enough to furiously jolt the poor tiny brunette from their activity.

Chihiro jumped so suddenly at the sudden intrusion of suddenness, that they almost dropped their precious laptop. With a loud shriek that sounded like that of a rabbit who barely survived being a hawks' dinner, the brunette quickly dove to the floor to catch their precious electronic devise.

Chihiro let a relieved sigh, body quivering, as they managed to catch their prized laptop. They **just** managed to save it from destruction.

"Yo, nice save, Chihiro!" Mondo cheered loudly from next to Chihiro, almost causing the poor frail teen to drop their laptop again. The tiny brunette fumbled, before getting a proper grip on the device, and firmly shutting the screen.

Obviously, with Mondo in the room, they wouldn't be doing any work, anyways. Plus, it would save them from another possible disaster.

"Anyways, I got a question!" Mondo went on, an odd fusion of a smile and scowl on his face. "'S about my laptop. I need some I.T help."

"O-Oh, alright..." the tiny brunette said waveringly. "I think I can help you...W-What's the problem?" Personally, they hoped that it wouldn't be something **too** complicated. They wanted to bolt to their room, shut themselves up in it, and program in peace, thank you very much.

"Sweet, thanks!" Mondo said with a grin, as he took a seat next to the brunette, casting a shadow over the kid. He pulled out his closed laptop from amongst his coat- don't ask how that works, exactly. I wouldn't be able to explain it to you. Just go with it- this is Mondo.

"Aight, so I couldn't install this virus protection thingy, so I just decided to..." Mondo started, as he opened his laptop, and got it to the first screen. "Re-install Windows."

Chihiro paled as Mondo went on. "I think that's what you're supposed to do! Kinda. But look at this- when I was all logging in, all my shit was gone! My screensaver, my pics- hell, even my unfinished homework! See, my desktop's all blank!"

"**Mondo**..." Chihiro groaned in dread, rubbing their temples. "That...Re-installing Windows deletes EVERYTHING."

Mondo scowled, looking pissed. "Yeah, I can fucking see that!"

Chihiro shook their head sadly, seemingly unaffected by his friend's exclamation. "When I mean everything, I mean EVERYTHING. Every single application, file, picture...Gone. Unless you backed it up, or saved the specifics of the programs...It's been wiped off of the computer. Forever."

Mondo paled, and then promptly turned red. "WHAT?!" he roared. "ALL MY SHIT FOR FOUR FUCKING YEARS, IS JUST...!"

"Yes...I'm sorry, but you can't ever get it back," Chihiro murmured, shaking their head sadly.

"AIGHT, THAT'S BULLSHIT-"

Suddenly, another voice cut him off.

"Language!" exclaimed _Kiyotaka Ishimaru_, as he marched into the room.

"Ah, fu-"

"Fujisaki-kun, I need a moment of your time!" The straight-laced boy asked suddenly, looking distressed. Chihiro's gut sank, as they noted one of the school's rented laptop's held firmly in the boy's hands.

"A-Alright..." Chihiro murmured weakly, whilst Mondo complained.

"Hey, I was here first! Chihiro's still gotta help me setting up my laptop, since all my shit got wiped!" Mondo interjected.

"Once again, Owada-kun, language!" Kiyotaka reprimended, before suddenly shaking his head. "No, no, I will deal with you later. Fujisaki-kun, I need your technical assistance! I believe I have managed to do something wrong on my school-issued laptop!"

"Um...I can help you later, Mondo-kun...M-Maybe Ishimaru-kun's problem won't take that long," the tiny brunette said placatingly to the large boy sitting next to them. Mondo muttered curses under his breath, but got up, acquiescing.

Kiyotaka promptly sat himself next to the Programmer, opening the laptop.

"You see, I have deleted something titled 'System 34', and then my laptop computer suddenly-"

Chihiro couldn't help it. They facepalmed.

"**Ishimaru-kun**," the Programmer groaned. "Deleting System 34 is one of the **worst** things you can do to a computer...!"

Kiyotaka looked bewildered for a few moments, before his expression grew distressed. "I...I did not know...! Oh, **please**, Fujisaki-kun, help me fix it!" he begged, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Ishimaru-kun, it's an issue that's nearly un-fixable, unless you-"

"Yo, then maybe you can help me instead!" came **another** voice, suddenly.

'_Why's there a sudden influx of people needing my help?!_' the tiny Programmer wondered in their mind, irked.

_Leon Kuwata_ entered the room, a tablet in his hand.

"Yo, Chihiro, this stupid thing isn't working! Says there's something called a Trojan on it...?" the redhead said, pouting irritatedly, waving the device around.

"**Leon**," the Programmer said in exasperation, "That's the **third** time this happened...!"

"Yo, Chihiro-chi! I need some rad techie help from you!" exclaimed _Yasuhiro Hagakure_, as he poked his dread-locked head into the room.

"_Kami-sami._.." the tiny brunette said under their breath in dread.

"So I bought this one cool program, for three payments of 29.95, from India! Said it would help protect my computer from viruses, but then all these popups started to show up, and my desktop went all outta wack! Now I can't get on it anymore!"

"You **fell** for that?!" Chihiro shrieked, looking like they wanted to bash their head against something. That nearby desk looked promising...

Then again, this was _Hiro_. It wasn't surprising he did something that stupid, but still...

"Ah, Fujisaki-san...," came a throaty voice from the-presumably broken, because people just kept filtering through the damn room-doorway.

The Programmer's heart soared as the towering form of _Sakura Ogami_ entered the room, trailed by the ever present and ever peppy _Aoi Asahina_.

This duo could save Chihiro from this mind-melting madness...!

"I have a...technical difficulty. You see..." Sakura started, looking somewhat dejected.

"Sakura-chan broke her laptop's keyboard! Some of the keys kinda broke off..." Hina added helpfully, giving a reassuring pat on Sakura's muscled, scarred shoulder. "Oh! And something kinda happened with my phone's screen! It's all dark and weird and kinda...wonky. It looks warped!"

"Is...That so...?" Chihiro said in a daze, eyes glazed, as their mind pretty much shut down.

"...Fujisaki-san, my laptop is frozen again," came _Mukuro Ikusaba_'s sudden deathly quiet voice next to the Programmer, causing them to jolt out of their reverie.

When did she even get here?!

Then again, she was the _Ultimate Soldier_. I made sense that she could be silent and sneak around.

Still, that was spooky. She was as silent as a ghost...

"Fujisaki-chan, there is a virus on my computer! I require your amazingly cute, kind advice!" came _Hifumi Yamada'_s grating shriek from the doorway, as he somehow managed to heft his girth through the doorway.

"Out of my way, you oversized gerbil!" snapped the most cruel, annoyingly pomp, asshole-ish voice imaginable.

_Byakuya Togami_ somehow managed to get Yamada shoved aside, as he stormed into the room that was becoming ever more populated.

"Fujisaki!" he snapped irately. "There was a call from the Windows company, informing me that there was a virus on my computer. I followed their precise instructions, and now my computer has ceased working! Fix this at once!"

Chihiro facepalmed. '_Isn't Togami smarter than this?!_'

"Hey, asshole! That's no way to talk to Chihiro!" Mondo roared angrily, face red, as he stepped towards the blonde.

"Yeah, you four-eyed lemon!" piped up Hina. "Besides, there's kinda a line for help, if you haven't noticed!"

"Lines do not exist for me. I am Byakuya Togami," the Togami Heir said pompously, nose in the air, arms crossed, glaring at the two who spoke against him.

"Y-Y-Yeah! B-Byakuya-sama should g-get the p-propriety here!" came _Touko Fukawa_'s acidic, wavering voice. She shuffled forwards, figure hunched, clinging to a laptop in her arms.

"Hm...So you are all having technical troubles as well," came a calm, collected voice.

Kyoko Kirigiri strode into the room, holding the silent power she always held. Chihiro felt like they could cry.

'_Kirigiri-san will help me out of this mess...!_' Chihiro thought hopefully, crying tears of joy in the inside.

And then the Programmer noticed that in her hand gloved hand was a phone, and their hope plummeted spectacularly.

"I had to reset the WiFi connection on my phone. All I need is the specifics of how to access it once more, and I will be out of your hair, Fujisaki-san. You have many wanting your technical advice, after all."

At that precise moment, _Celestia Ludenberg_ stepped into the room.

"Oh my..." she said aloud, a hand daintily over her mouth, trying to hide her growing smirk. "It seems as if Fujisaki-san has quite the audience, now doesn't it...?"

"Whoops! I think we came at a bad time!" suddenly came the melodic voice of _Sayaka Maizono_. The _Ultimate Pop Star_ stepped into the room, staring wide-eyed at the large crowd. _Makoto Naegi_ trailing behind her.

"Yeah...Er, we'll come back some other time. The problems with our phones aren't that important, anyways..." Makoto said awkwardly, giving a bit of a self-deprecating laugh, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Chihiro was about ten seconds away from snapping. They didn't know if they wanted to cry, scream, or laugh hysterically. All options sounded good right about now...

And then that fucking **laugh** filtered into the room.

"_Upupupu...Puhuhuhu_," came the playful giggling from the doorway. _Junko Enoshima_ strut in grandly, smiling a wide, shit-eating grin.

"Chihirooooo, I need your help with my tableeeeet," Junko sing-songed, eyes full of mirth and interest, as she playfully waved around the black device in her long-nailed hand.

That did it.

Chihiro slowly, calmly got up, padding through the crowded room to the exit. Some watched the tiny Programmer curiously, others were hounding Chihiro, throwing questions and pleading for them to fix their problems right that second.

Chihiro just kept going, expression completely blank. Dead, almost.

They exited the room, going out into the hallway. Everyone in the room, now curious, went to see why the Programmer was leaving, or found their actions odd. Everyone craned their necks into the doorway, watching the short brunette.

Chihiro walked into the middle of the hallway, dragging behind them a chair from the A/V Room. Then they stilled.

And then Chihiro Fujisaki suddenly SCREAMED. In complete and utter frustration.

LOUDLY.

The usually pacifistic, meek Programmer promptly picked up the chair they acquired, hefting it up over their head- still screaming in utter rage- and chucked it against the wall.

The brunette suddenly stilled once more, panting, looking like an angered beast. The entire class was wide-eyed, silent as a grave.

Junko Enoshima burst into cackling in the background, whilst Mondo breathed an awed, '_Holy **shit**_'.

In the future, everyone -save Junko- decided not to hound Chihiro Fujisaki to the breaking point with their stupidity when it came to electronics.


End file.
